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moonlit-imagines · 3 years

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Misbehavior (Part 1)

Jason Todd x batkid!reader

warnings:

a/n: tysm anon!!

prompt: anonymous: “Hello Lacey! Hope your doing great! Could I please request a bat family x batsis!reader where the reader is Kind of the middle child (I was thinking older than Damian but younger than Tim) and she’s always forgotten and in the back. Maybe some scenarios can be that no one listens when she talks or they forget to invite her to do stuff. So then one day she acts up in school like maybe punching someone for no good reason because she’s craving attention but instead of Bruce showing up to get her Jason shows up and he sees that she’s actually really sad and starts to question her until she tells him everything and maybe spills some tears and it ends with just Jason comforting her and cheering her up. Just some soft Jason for my soul! Also have a great day and I hope that you feel better and more motivated now after your break! 😘”

part 2

No matter what you did, none of your deeds went unnoticed. Good or bad.

You always heard how Dick was so independent, the one everyone should use as an example.

You always heard how Barbara could do it all, she never failed to impress.

You always heard how Jason was reckless, someone who needed to get his act together.

You always heard how Tim was such a prodigy, he was one of a kind.

You always heard how Steph was so determined, she had such amazing goals.

You always heard that Cass was perfect, they’d never change a thing about her.

You always heard that Duke was so strong, he’d never give up no matter what stood in his way.

You always heard that Damian was dangerous, a kid that needed to be guided.

But what about you? What did they hear about you? Nothing. No one ever spoke of you, they didn’t have the time. It seemed as if you were just unimpressive, there wasn’t one thing that needed to be mentioned. Stuck in the middle of a bunch of bats and birds, no way to stand out in the crowd.

Maybe not in a mask or a cowl, a dress or a suit, behind a computer or among the darkness, but there was one place you couldn’t be ignored...

You sat at your desk, picking at old tape with the tip of your fingernail. The teacher had nothing interesting to say, so what was the point of being here? What made Gotham Academy so special that you just had to attend this place?

The uniform was overkill, the classes went nowhere, the students were too preppy, and you didn’t have a single thing in common with anyone here.

Anger was starting to bubble inside you as you continued your internal self-loathing. Your mind was only focused on the negative, but it was shifting from school back to home.

No one was ever there for you, not even on patrol. You’d called for backup several times on missions and nearly lost it all when you had to go in alone. If it were anyone else, a teammate would have met them in a heartbeat.

Your plans were always overshadowed whenever you tried to set up a mission or even just a day off. You wanted cookies? Too bad, Tim wants brownies. You wanted to watch a movie? Too bad, everyone chose a TV show. It was the little things that irked you the most. Half the time, you never even got the memo.

And what about when you all come back from patrol with all sorts of injuries and Alfred comes to patch you up? Well, not you. He’ll run to check on cuts and scrapes. Meanwhile, you had a broken wrist and a black eye.

You’d finally run out of things to pick at around your desk which resorted in you tapping instead. There was a brief bit of zoning out as you remembered the time that Damian’s plan for evading Killer Croc’s attack was to push you in the way. Or the time that Jason hid his guns in your bed for reasons he didn’t care to explain. Or when Dick drank the last of the milk and didn’t tell you until after you poured your cereal. Or when Tim told you that you weren’t fit for the mission he had been planning. Or when Bruce blatantly ignored the story you told out of pure excitement, giving you nothing but a “sounds like you had fun.”

While you were in a horrible daze, you felt a hand on your shoulder that snapped you out of it faster than the Barry Allen. Without even evaluating the situation, your reflexes caused you to turn and twist your classmates arm backwards as he screamed.

“Hey! Stop, ow, that hurts! Stop! Stop it!” You processed his words too late and knew exactly what was coming next.

“Y/N L/N!” You teacher shouted as you drew your hand back. “Dean’s office. Right now.” Her sharp voice sent a chill down your spine, not even the Joker could do that. You’d be able to explain the situation pretty easily, you just didn’t want to make it worse. But there was one ankle that sent you off the edge. Another student tripped you on your way through the aisles, and that student caught a fist to the face. The audience gasped and shouting from your teacher ensued, but you didn’t listen, you’d take the punishment at this point. So you walked right out and headed for the dean’s office without so much as a hall pass.

“Mx. l/n? What’s this about?” Dean Williams was surprised to say the least, you’d never been sent in for discipline before. Was there a certain way to do this?

“Well, I zoned out and some kid behind me grabbed my shoulder, I accidentally twisted his arm.” You retold your story, the abridged version. “But on my way out I punched a kid in the face because he tripped me. That one’s on me.”

“...Well,” the dean frowned at his obligations, but had to go through with some kind of punishment, “I’m going to have to suspend you for physical contact with a student. I’ll call your father to come pick you up.” You shrugged and slouched back in your chair, giving up on any hope of talking your way out of this. It might as well just happen. You listened to the clicking of the buttons on the dean’s phone as he typed in the Wayne Manor phone number, obviously reaching Alfred almost immediately.

“Wayne Manor.” You eard his faint voice through the speaker.

“Hello, this is Dean Williams from Gotham Academy, may I speak to Mr. Wayne? I have his child in my office.” Your dean explained over the phone, peeking back at your for a split second. You were completely unbothered, it was baffling.

“Is it Damian?” You heard him ask, causing an involuntary eye roll.

“Y/N, actually.” There was a long pause before someone else picked up the phone. “Mr. Wayne, this is Dean Williams at Gotham Academy. I have y/n sitting across from me right now, they seemed to have gotten themself into a physical altercation with two separate students, I have no choice but to suspend them.” You heard a deep sigh over the phone, then the handheld piece was handed to you.

“Bruce?” You asked.

“Really? Fighting at school?” He sounded unimpressed. Nothing new, even when you do something new.

“Something like that. Whoops.” He hung up on you right after that, so you handed the phone back and told your dean, “Guess they’ll get me soon.”

“You call your father by his first name?” Dean Williams had nosily questioned.

“I’m adopted.” He obviously didn’t know you as well as your more troublesome sibling, it was time he just minded his business.

After a good thirty minutes of silent waiting while listening to keyboard clacking and papers flipping by the front desk, the office door opened, and to your surprise, it was one of your brothers.

“I’m here for y/n.” He mumbled, signing the piece of paper and showing his ID.

“Alright, Mr. Harper, I just have to check some paperwork really quick...” The receptionist went into your file and checked for your emergency contacts. “You’re all set. Now, y/n has been suspended for two weeks. I suggest you get to the bottom of their little ‘outburst’ before they’re able to come back to school.” It actually pissed Jason off to hear her say that.

“I’ll keep that in mind.” His sarcasm wasn’t subtle. “Come on, kid.” Your brother gripped your arm and led you out of the office, noticing your bitter expression that he couldn’t even rationalize. Was that normal? “So what happened. Bruce just told me to come get you.”

“Of course he did.” You rolled your eyes on the brink of tears, he didn’t even come to get you himself. Jason opened the car door for you and nudged you inside, slamming it once you were clear.

“You better have a good reason,” he warned as he started the engine, “I was in the middle of a poker game.”

“Oh, yeah, ‘cause I’m such an inconvenience.” You were starting to remind him of himself. That was never a good thing.

“Okay, my bad. I didn’t mean it like that.” Jason began speeding down the block, you’d never once seen him obey a speed limit. You’d think someone with a fake ID and a death certificate would want to avoid any run-ins with the cops, but Gotham was just one of those cities.

“Yeah, right.” You reached for the radio knobs and felt Jason’s hand wrap around your wrist.

“No music until you explain yourself.” You fell back into your seat to pout, muttering some curses under your breath. “I won’t tell Bruce or anyone. I swear.”

“I just zoned out. Reflexes.” You bluntly replied.

“What?” He still didn’t have any context to go off of.

“I twisted someone’s arm backwards. Honest mistake.” Jason knew there was more to this story. “But on my way out of the classroom, I punched this kid who tried to trip me. That was on him.”

“As much as I condone payback, you can’t do that at school.” He sighed. “You’ve never been sent home before. That I know of. So why now?”

“Yeah, you know, maybe that’s the issue? You couldn’t tell me if I’ve ever gotten in trouble before. None of you could. You couldn’t tell me a definitive thing about me. When’s my birthday, Jason?” He was at a loss for words. “That’s what I thought.”

“So this was all for attention?” Jason asked. “There’s a hell of a lot of better ways to go about that.”

“Tried them all, this one barely even worked.” You replied with a crack in your voice. “How come none of you care about me? Why am I always looked over? I’m just like the rest of you. I put on that stupid suit every night and kick ass, I get my job done, I get good grades, I’m resourceful, I’m special—” You’d let that last one slip in your rant to your older brother, it shocked him so bad he stopped the car.

“I know what you mean.” Jason stared straight ahead at the empty road. “I felt the same way when I came back. After everyone was used to me being back, it was like nothing ever happened. Bruce just went back to calling me careless, irresponsible.”

“At least you get noticed, Jason. Your identifiable.” You turned to him with a pained look and he risked his confidence to look you in the eye. Once he did, he couldn’t look away. It hurt him to see someone so familiar to himself have tears running down their face because they felt forgotten. No kid should ever have to feel like that. That was why Bruce took him in. That was how Jason became Robin.

“Fuck this.” Jason hit the gas and turned the car around. “We’re getting ice cream. Do you like ice cream? That’s a serious question.”

“I...I guess.” You were somewhat confused by his sudden literal change in direction.

“Good. You’re my kid for today, all my attention goes to you. I’m sure Bruce won’t notice if you’re gone for a few hours.” Jason’s jaw dropped at his last comment. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“No, you’re right and you should say it.”

taglist: @thatwaspossession // @ravenmoore14 // @thisetaernallove // @kinoko-kai //

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avaritia-apotheosis · 3 years

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Phantom Children Ch. 8

What's this? An update! Massive thanks to my betas for helping me get through this chapter <3

In Which: A few answers are given to the family and Danny is rudely awoken

[Side note: If you wanna know the general ages of the batfam, its listed in the AO3 version. I also talk about katanas in the end notes ^-^]

AO3 | Prologue | 7 | [ 8 ] | 9 DAMIAN INFORMED TODD—and Drake when he arrived on his bike sometime later on—that the boy whose face is plastered across the monitor was neither a picture of himself nor of Father.

Drake took one glance at the monitor and sighed, pressing his fingers against the bridge of his nose. “Just when I thought this day was getting better.”

“What, did that café on 5th finally let customers supersize their drink?”

“God that would be the dream, wouldn’t it?” Drake sighed wistfully. “Nah, but I did get a lead on where some of that stolen Cadmus tech might’ve ended up. I was gonna spend the night following up on it, but I guess we have to deal with,” he gestured to the monitor, “whatever this is.”

Todd leaned against the edge of the computer, arms crossed over the red bat insignia on his chest. “What are we dealing with this time, brat? A clone? An alternate universe counterpart? Magic shenanigans?”

Maybe. Perhaps. All of those were perfectly valid conclusions for the enigma that was Daniel James Fenton. (Why Fenton and not al Ghul? Or even Wayne?)

Damian, too, was a genetic experiment; a ‘test tube baby’ as Drake put it at times. Damian was born for greatness, created to be perfect. The perfect soldier. The perfect assassin. The perfect heir. Was this boy—Daniel—like him as well?

A failed one, then. Perhaps the precursor to Damian’s own existence. But that would not explain why the boy was allowed to exist for so long. His grandfather demanded perfection, especially from those of his own blood. If the boy was a failure, he would have been eliminated immediately, not sent to live with some eccentric scientists in the Midwest.

Damian was not naïve enough to think that his mother and grandfather did not keep secrets from him. On the contrary, he expected it. The League of Shadows dealt in secrets as often as it did in death. Certain information was worth its weight in gold, whether it was given or buried away.

But he could not help the sharp pang in his chest. A lightning strike, quick and electrifying at the notion that they kept secrets about their family from him.

His father’s face flashed in his mind. The shock turned into a slow, dawning horror. That flicker of light, of recognition, as he scrutinized the contents of the flash drive and cross-referenced it with a public database.

And grief.

Damian recognized the grief.

Alfred, too, nearly dropped his tray of fresh-baked cookies when he stepped in front of the monitor. His usual unflappable demeanor was momentarily broken at his father’s whispered “Sixteen years. Alfred— he’s sixteen years old.”

His father knew of the boy. He was allowed to know of Daniel when he was not allowed to know about Damian.

------

Grayson returned to the cave with a distinct lack of energy in his step. His mask dangled off the tips of his fingers, chin angled downwards and covered largely by his hand. For a split second, their eyes met. Grayson shifted his gaze away, scratching the back of his neck. Father told him, then. Damian wondered how much Father revealed to his favorite son.

Damian clucked his tongue and buried himself deeper into the chair, arms crossed and pointedly looking away. If it was not for his accursed ankle, he’d have headed out to the training ring to take his frustrations out on the dummies.

“Oh, thank god you’re here, Dickface. Damian’s completely out of it.”

Damian shot him a look. “Shut up, Todd.”

“Leave him alone, Jay. Is Tim back yet?”

Drake emerged from the changing room in a dark green shirt, a fresh cup of coffee in hand. He took one long sip before exhaling. “Yeah, I’m here.”

“O-kay…” He pressed his hands together, mouth thinned into a grim line. “Uh, hey Tim, glad to see you back safe. Bruce is coming down soon to explain some things.” He let out a deep sigh, carding a hand through his hair. “This kind of thing would probably be better with the girls around, but I—god, I don’t know.”

Todd raised an eyebrow. “Don’t know whether to call Steph and Cass in Hong Kong, or don’t know what’s going on?”

“Yes.”

------

When Father arrived, Pennyworth following dutifully behind him, it was with an aching slowness in his gait. His steps measured and precise, preternaturally quiet as he made his way to stand by Damian’s chair. Damian sat up straighter, shoulders squared and back an inch away from the backrest. The rest, even Todd, stood at attention; an ingrained habit among Robins and an amusing instinct even among the senior heroes of the Justice League when it came to facing the Batman.

His father kept a steady hand on Damian’s shoulder, and Damian, shamefully, leaned into the touch; his head inclined towards his father’s hand so much so that he could feel the ends of his hair being pushed up slightly as he brushed against his father’s forearm.

He spoke with his usual monotone, as if he was heading a Justice League meeting as opposed to unveiling the secrets surrounding that boy. He brought forward the few photos they obtained from the flash drive. “A few weeks ago, we were alerted of suspicious movement from the League of Shadows in Amity Park, Illinois. Their objectives are, as of now, unclear, though it appears to be tied to the death of Amity Park resident, Daniel Fenton.”

One photo was a standard ID picture people get for their driver’s license, the lighting deliberately horrible so that any attempt to look decent would always end in failure. Another photo was a little better; a candid scene of him chatting with two others his age, a Caucasian girl in gothic-style clothes and an African-American holding a sleek, but still very outdated PDA. His blue eyes crinkled at the corners, hand reaching up to his face to stifle a laugh. There were other photos like this, some candid, others posed. At the forefront of each, a boy that looked too much like his father, too much like Damian.

His father glanced at the photos. He shut his eyes and when he opened them again, he fixed them on some distant stalactite in the Cave. “Around six months ago, Daniel was pronounced dead in a vehicular accident. A body was present, but according to police reports, he was identified via his driver’s license as opposed to any kind of DNA profiling.” He leaned over Damian’s chair to pull up a profile of Masters. “Our source—Vladimir Masters, mayor of Amity and a friend of the Fenton family—indicated his belief that Daniel is actually alive. I am inclined to agree.”

“He’s your son, isn’t he,” Drake said, more of a statement than a question.

Father gave a curt nod. “I cannot say for certain until I can perform a DNA test, but I highly suspect that to be the case.”

“First the demon spawn, now this. Great.” Todd made a hand motion towards the screen. “You know, Bruce, not knowing you have a kid once might be a coincidence, but twice? How do you do that?”

“As of three hours ago, I was still under the impression that my son never made it to term.”

“What?”

“Over sixteen years ago I was involved in a mission that put Ra’s and I on the same side. During that time, Talia and I entered a relationship that resulted in a pregnancy. Though initially ecstatic, she eventually led me to believe she miscarried the child and pushed me away. For what ends, I do not know, but trust me Jason, if I knew—” He paused, the hand that was not on Damian’s shoulder curled into a tight fist.

Father pinched the bridge of his nose. “Why she hid it from me then doesn’t matter. Why Talia wants him back now is important. Judging from Daniel’s records, he was adopted into the Fenton family as an infant and has since lived a seemingly normal life as a civilian. His adoptive parents, Jack and Maddie Fenton, are brilliant scientists and engineers focused on the field of paranormal studies. Eccentricities aside, they have zero connections to the League of Assassins or any other concerning parties.”

“So why now?” Dick asked, shifting his concerned gaze from Bruce to the static picture of Danny’s tired smile. “Why, after all this time, decide that now would be the best time to recover him?”

------

Danny’s experienced plenty of rude awakenings before, but waking up at the ass-crack of dawn to avoid his kidnapper-slash-assassin-slash-biological-mom launching a surprise attack takes the fucking cake. He can’t believe he’s saying this, but thank god for all those late night ghost attacks that conditioned him to be a light sleeper. And, of course, the League’s insistence that everyone be in optimal condition regardless of how little sleep you actually got.

Danny kicked Talia off of him, ripping his blanket away before scrambling to his feet. Seriously, if the universe decided to spontaneously give him powers again, he’d really like an upgrade to his ghost senses, please and thank you. Something that works on humans and not just ghosts. Like spidey-senses. He’d really, really like some spidey-senses.

“Your reaction times have improved considerably,” Talia said.

He eyed the katana sheathed beside his bedroll. “Thanks. Who could have guessed that constantly challenging someone to a spar in the unholy hours of morning would make them paranoid to sleep too much? Really, how am I supposed to grow taller at this rate? ” If he could just get it--

She smiled, taking a step forward. “Prepare yourself.”

“Heh.” Danny stepped further away from Talia, keeping his back to the mouth of the cave. One hand stretched in front of him and the other, coated in a green light, was kept hidden behind his back. “Am I actually gonna get some answers today?”

“Let us make it interesting. Last 10 minutes against me and I shall tell you more about your brother.” Talia twirled her blade. “If you happen to draw blood, you may ask any one thing of me.”

“Anything?”

“Within reason.”

His face caught between a grimace and a smile. He’d rather be sleeping right now, but if he had to be awake, then he’d better make the most of it. “Deal.”

Talia’s smile dropped. She veered her body to the right, barely dodging the streak of bright green that whizzed from behind her. The ectoplasmic energy that surrounded the katana bled away as the handle connected with Danny’s outstretched hand.

She quickly glanced back at Danny’s bedding. Beside it lay an empty sheath. “You have telekinesis?”

He shrugged. “It comes and goes.” Yeah, no way was Danny gonna admit that seven-out-of-ten-times he forgot that he had telekinesis. Besides, that shit was hard to do when he wasn’t Phantom.

“A surprise attack from behind is a sound strategy, Daniel. Though it’ll take a lot more than that to harm me.”

Danny pointed to the side of his cheek. “Are you sure about that?”

Talia frowned. She reached up to her face. Her fingers brushed against her cheek and came away with a thin streak of blood.

Danny grinned, pointing his blade at his opponent. “First blood goes to me.”

------

Fact: most fights don’t last long. An average street fight could last anywhere between 25 to 40 seconds, and sword fights rarely last over a minute. Like Talia said, the goal of a fight was to end it with as few injuries to oneself as possible. Humans, even the most skilled ones, can rarely last long in a fight. Prolonged combat is suicide; it makes you tired, makes your muscles heavy. It’s nothing like what Hollywood would have you believe.

Even with Danny’s own enhanced stamina and Talia holding back, he couldn’t last a full ten-minute spar. If Talia didn’t finish him within twenty-five seconds, then he’d fall by his own human limitations.

But the goal wasn’t to spar continuously for ten minutes.

He only had to last that long.

Danny sprinted out of the cave. The sun barely peeked out of the horizon, a thin line of deep orange breaking apart the wide expanse of blue-black sky above. He couldn’t see shit; great news since that meant there’s a good chance Talia couldn’t either, but that doesn’t fix the fact that he can’t see.

Nearly stumbling on the ice, Danny veered to the left. The edges of the lake stopped at towering rocks twice Danny’s height, leaving little room for cover. Though if he remembered correctly, there should be a few crevices here and there to hide in.

“You’ll have to be faster than that, Daniel.”

Shit—

Danny stopped. He brought his sword up to parry Talia’s strike and twisted away, putting distance between them.

Well, so much for just avoiding her for 10 minutes.

He adjusted his grip, keeping his sword steady and eyes trained on Talia as they circled each other. Danny lunged with an overhead strike. Talia used one hand to block the downswing by gripping his wrists. She thrust her sword forward, the tip harshly poking Danny’s abdomen.

“Less than three minutes.” Talia let his wrist go, Danny’s arms slumping to his sides.

He sighed as he sheathed his sword. “Damn, I thought I’d last longer than that.”

“You made a good effort,” Talia assured him. “Putting as much distance between us at the beginning was a good strategy. You recognized the win conditions immediately and attempted a battle of attrition.” She placed a hand on his shoulder. “I am very proud of you habibi, especially as you managed to draw first blood.”

A warmth grew in Danny’s stomach at the words, heating his cheeks. Sheepishly, he scratched the back of his head. “I wasn’t entirely sure that would work, honestly.”

“It was clever; half a second later and you might have even killed me. You are an al Ghul through and through” She brushed his hair out of his face. “What would you like as your prize, then?”

Danny’s heart clenched. He frowned, dropping his arm to his side. If I was such an al Ghul, then why didn’t you keep me? The question lodged itself in his throat, stifling his thoughts. It was something he’d been wondering for a while, actually, in the moments of solitude he had at the compound. Talia, during their training, would always remark at his potential. How talented he was, how adaptable he was, how much greater he would have been if he had been trained at a younger age.

Well then, why wasn’t he? Why did she give him up?

But each time he tried to ask, his tongue would turn to lead and the moment would pass, the question still left unsaid and simmering at the back of his mind. A Pandora’s Box that held none of the world’s evil but all of Danny’s possible shortcomings.

He could ask the question now.

He could.

He didn’t.

“Why did you take me?”

Talia tilted her head. “It is because you’re my son.”

“No. Not that. It has to be something more than that. You had sixteen years to come back for me—or, hell, you could have just never left me.” His breath hitched, fingers mussing his hair and hiding his eyes. “Why else did you take me?”

“It is true that there was more than one reason why we decided to retrieve you from Amity Park. One of which is because you are my son and an heir of the Demon’s Head.” Talia stilled. The dark skies of dawn made it impossible for him to read her. “The second reason was to protect you.”

“You kidnapped me…to protect me?”

“Knowledge of the ghosts of Amity have spread through the more insidious parts of the world. There are many out there who would pay exorbitant fees to study one of you or to use you.”

Use him? What did she mean by—

Oh.

Ghosts—Amity Park’s brand of ghosts—were a new element that the world had to contend with. Amity Park might have a crime rate of zero but that wasn’t the case everywhere else. Theft, assault, murder; the world was rampant with crimes and criminals clawing their way to the very top. Having ghosts, even ones with the most basic powerset, would be a huge advantage.

“There’s no way that would work,” Danny insisted. “Most ghosts just want to be left alone, and the ones that want to wreak havoc would never work with humans. The only reason they even work with halfas like me at times is because they still consider us as ghosts.”

“If my sources are to be believed, ghosts might not even get a choice.”

Danny’s blood curdled in his veins.

No.

Someone’s found a way to control ghosts.

#danny phantom #batman #danny phantom x batman crossover #dp fic #phantom children.txt

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peterxwade24 · 3 years

Text

Safety Found in Red Sleeves

Chapter 7

So, who’s ready for Gotham ft. Thana and friends? Also, Uncles Ed and John show up at the end so, look out for that.

Anyways...

Jason woke up early that next day, and he decided he was just going to have a little bit of a lie in. He smiled and pulled Damian closer, shushing him when he made a noise in protest. “I’m pretty sure the girls are going to join us in a little bit, and then Tim a little while after that.”

Just like he expected, Steph and Cass joined them in the bed not too long after he said it, and then Tim joined in a few minutes after the girls. The five of them laid in bed, everyone finding comfort in each other. No words were passed between the family, they didn’t feel the need to speak.

That’s where Dick and Wally, and their kids, found them about an hour later.

“Why weren’t we called to join the cuddle pile?” Dick pouted and crossed his arms over his chest, while Mar’i, Jay, and Iris ducked around their fathers and climbed into the bed. They, like Damian, chose a Wayne and clung to them. Mar’i clung to Tim, Iris clung to Steph and Jai clung to Cass.

“There’s a nine-year-old practically asleep on my chest. My phone is on my nightstand. None of them brought their phones to my bed.” Jason whispered and carded his fingers through Damian’s hair.

Dick shot a look at Wally, Wally simply shrugged as though to say “when in Rome” before he too got into the bed.

“C’mon Dickiebird. We don’t have anything to do today. We don’t start guiding or protecting them till tomorrow.” Jason’s words were slightly slurred in his comfortable state.

Dick huffed good-naturedly before climbing into the bed with his family and the Wests.

---

Tim’s phone blared from the room he’d claimed, stirring the almost completely asleep cuddle pile into wakefulness.

Jason frowned and shifted Damian from his chest to Steph’s other side. “I’ll be right back. Imma go answer Timber’s phone.” Jason slowly got out of the bed, being careful to not displace the other kids, and quietly left the room. He made his way into Tim’s room, grabbed his phone off of the night stand, and, without looking at the caller ID, answered the phone. “Timothy Jackson Drake’s phone, Jason speaking.”

“Why do you have his phone?” Bruce’s irritated voice came over the line.

“Because Tim’s in my bed asleep with most of my family and he left his phone on the nightstand next to the bed he sleeps in.” Jason’s voice didn’t change despite a grin forming on his face. “If something’s gone wrong at Wayne Enterprises, then shouldn’t you as the CEO be stepping up to solve it? And not your seventeen year old son.”

“You have no-” Bruce growled.

“I have no what? Room to care about my little brother? Right to care that my brothers and sisters would perish in your care?” Jason’s tone took on a deadly edge. “I have killed for less. I have killed to keep my son safe. I am not above maiming in the defense of those I love.” Jason hung up the phone and put it back down on the nightstand with a weighted sigh. He turned and the only indication he was surprised by Cass’s appearance was a slight widening to his eyes. “Hey Cass.”

Cass simply walked towards her brother and let herself slump against his chest. She wrapped her arms around him in her own display of thanks.

Jason simply rubbed circles into the older girl’s back. “I will not let him hurt any of you ever again. Harvey and I will fight tooth and nail if we have to, he has already given up his parental rights to Damian. You and Steph and Tim are just as much my siblings as you are my kids, well, you not so much a kid but you know what I mean.”

Cass shook with silent laughter and nodded. She patted Jason’s back and pulled back. She flashed him a smile before pulling him back to the rest of the family.

---

Jason smiled as Damian ran around the park with Mar’i, Jai and Iris. Damian hadn’t had many opportunities to open up to children his age, as there hadn’t been any in the league, and despite the fact that he was older than the other three the four of them got along fairly well. Jason watched as Dick fretted over the three younger kids, Wally stood beside him with a small affectionate grin on his face. Tim was riding a skateboard around the park, Bart keeping pace beside him. Cass sat with Kon while Steph, Cassie and Cissie chatted a few paces away from the other two.

Damian, Mar’i, Jai and Iris ran around the park, weaving around other patrons and laughing. Damian looked over his shoulder at the other three when he ran into someone.

“Are you okay? Oh I’m so sorry.” A girl, who was with the person Damian ran into, spoke with a French accent. She was significantly taller than her companion with long black hair, the bangs and tips of which were dyed purple, and copper coloured eyes. She fretted over both Damian and her friend, who Damian was finally taking in. Her friend was short, just a head or two taller than Damian, with blue eyes and short pink hair, part of which was pulled back into a spiky ponytail.

Damian nodded. “I’m fine.”

Mar’i, Jai and Iris, upon seeing Damian standing, turned and ran to get their fathers.

The taller girl nervously flicked her bangs out of her face before frowning. “Are you sure you’re okay? Alix doesn’t always look where she’s skating.”

The other girl, apparently named Alix, looked ready to comment when Dick and Wally approached.

“Are you okay Damian?” Dick’s tone was filled with concern while Wally hung back with the three other kids.

“I’m fine Uncle Dick.” Damian frowned, “where’s Baba?”

“He’s gathering the other three, then they’ll be over here.” Dick reassured his young brother/nephew.

Jason ran to his son and scooped him up. “Oh Kutlat Saghira. Are you okay?” He turned to look at the French teens and smiled. “Thank you for stopping to make sure he was fine.”

Alix’s eyes widened before nodding. “Yeah, uh, no problem.”

Juleka gave a shy smile and nodded. “It was the least we could do.”

-*-*-*

Thana stared at her friends, the three who had always had her back and the two newest additions to their ranks. She took a moment to thank Plagg and Tikki, without whom she may never have met her closest friends and allies. She took in her friends and the way that all of their outfits seemed to go together without being obnoxiously matchy-matchy.

Alix seemed to be vibrating in her shoes, which were custom made turtle shell patterned Heelys. She wore dark gray distressed jeans with a dark forest green racerback tank top. She had a black and red men’s flannel over her tank with a red beanie perched on the top of her head. She had a dark green turtle themed shoulder bag strapped across her back.

Nino, standing next to Alix, had similar shoes done in snake skin instead of turtle shell. He wore loose-fitting blue denim jeans with several snake related patches around the side seems, he had a gray collared shirt under a red sweatshirt. He had a black shoulder bag across his back, on the opposite side Alix’s was. He had his normal headphones around his head while he had a pair of black headphones atop his head.

Adrien wore black and white checkered vans with white socks. His pants were salmon with baby pink criss-crossing stripes covering them. He wore a baby pink sweater with a light gray fanny pack.

Chloé wore a layered yellow skirt with a pair of foxes chasing each other around her hem, her skirt was made up of a solid layer of yellow silk under two or three layers of tulle. She had a white crop top tank under a red knit cardigan. She had an orange coloured baguette purse at her side. She had black converse with black socks to finish off her outfit.

Kim wore a pair of black running shoes, with gray sweatpants and a white shirt. He had a red zippered hoodie on top of that. He had a tiny gray ox with a smaller black cat curled up on its back on the hem of his shirt.

Thana had a pair of black running shoes, with gray leggings and a white tank top. She had a red crop top hoodie made of the hoodie she’d received from Jason all those years ago with a few added panels. Her tank top had little depictions of the Vietnamese zodiac animals on her chest.

Alix smiled brighty. “So, Kiti, you’ll never guess who I ran into, almost literally, yesterday.”

Thana hummed in acknowledgement as she led the group to the elevator. “Who’d you run into Rùa?”

“Oh, just, your brother, his brother, and an assortment of children.” Alix grinned as Thana froze and turned to look at her.

“What?” Thana’s voice was almost too quiet to hear, prompting Kim to drape his arm across her shoulders while Nino settled his normal headphones around Thana’s neck.

Chloé stared at Adrien, her blue eyes seeming to stare into Adrien’s soul.

“Hey, Al, that maybe wasn’t the best thing to say when we’re trying to get to the lobby to go on a tour with the rest of our class.” Adrien attempted to gently tell her off, but it backfired.

“Whatever.” Alix slunk ahead of them into the elevator.

---

Adrien looked at Alix forlornly as Alix chatted with Juleka. He knew he’d have to apologize eventually, he may have one fear as Monsieur Punaise (which was his partner) but he had two fears as Adrien Agreste, and they were disappointing his father and an angry Chloé Bourgeois. He shook his head and looked back at Chloé, who had a frown on her face as her eyes continued to scan the streets.

Nino fiddled with his phone as he kept pace a step behind Chloé but a step ahead of Thana and Kim. He looked to be fully absorbed in his phone but he was quick to pull Chloé away from the street a few moments before a car came whizzing past.

Their tour guide, a pleasant man who’d introduced himself as Richard, despite the fact that the bodyguard had snorted in response before neglecting to introduce himself, led them around Gotham. He pointed out all of the touristy destinations, while Thana mumbled what could be considered sad facts about each place.

Thana kept flicking her eyes to the bodyguard, there was only one Gothamite with the exact same build as their bodyguard with the same scars littering his cheeks and jaw. She was worrying the cuffs of her jacket sleeves when she heard the distinctive tap of her Uncle Ed’s cane. She whipped around to attempt to locate him, before seeing him and his tacky suit and her Uncle John and his equally as tacky suit approaching from behind Kim. She broke away from the group, causing the rest of her class (as well as the tour guide and bodyguard) to turn to stare at her as she threw herself into her Uncle Ed’s arms.

“Little Hood. It’s good to see you.” Her Uncle Ed held her close while Uncle John finally reached the duo.

“Hey Mini Todd.” Her Uncle John ruffled her hair before settling an arm around Ed’s shoulders.

The three reunited for a moment under the watchful eyes of the class’ bodyguard, Thana’s friends, and Marinette’s class. Kim pulled out his phone to take a picture to send to his Mẹ, because she had asked for any updates on Thana’s family situation. Nino took a picture to send to Thana, because he knew she’d want to have photographic evidence of when she reunited with her two of her uncles.

“I missed you two so much.” Thana whispered into Ed’s neck while John settled his hand on the back of Thana’s head.

“We missed you too.” John assured their niece, he knew that she’d had doubts about whether or not they had actually missed her as much as she’d missed them, and he hated her father for giving her that complex every day.

Lila let out a blood-curdling scream before appearing to tremble as she pointed at the trio. “Marinette is hugging The Riddler and Scarecrow!” Lila then proceeded to pretend to faint, luckily for her Alya was right there to catch her, unluckily for her everyone else was focused on their classmate and that fact that she appeared to have tears streaming down her cheeks.

Taglist:

@southamericangothamite @maribat-is-lifeblood @mystery-5-5 @our-preciousss @mochegato @chocolatecatstheron @throneoffirebreathingbitch @2confused-2doanything @wannajointhecrabcult @dreamykitty25 @tomanyfandomsonmymind @moonlightstar64 @justafanwarrior @mialuvscats @pheony1882 @pepelachanel @moongoddesskiana @abrx2002 @ladybug-182 @greatcatblaze @thatonecroc @vixen-uchiha @superbwhispersconnoisseur @lilkymilky @susiej1118 @bluesimani @thatonecroc

#maribat #ml crossover #mlb crossover #ml x dc #mlb x dc #Safety Found in Red Sleeves #SFIRS

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mischiefandspirits · 3 years

Text

Last Laugh (2 of 3)

“Oh, I noticed,” Red X said lowly, tossing the staff aside. “What that idiot was thinking letting Flamebird send you all the way across the country right after Batkid got blown up, I’ll never know.”

Robin flinched back at the accusation before his fists clenched at his sides. “Then you’ll be happy to know no one sent me here. It’s just where I ended up when Batman decided he didn’t want to work with me anymore and tossed me out.”

The story of how Dick ended up with the Titans in Batkid and Robin.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jason once told Dick that he spent months after he’d come to the manor worrying he’d be dumped back onto the streets at any minute. As a result, he’d kept go-bags hidden around, ready to go at a moment’s notice in hopes that he’d have time to grab one before he was sent away. They each had water bottles and food stolen from the kitchen, bandages from the infirmary, a backup set of clothes, a good blanket, a knife, and some cash he’d save whenever Bruce would give him any.

The others had known about them, of course, but hadn’t said anything. Jason had only known because Bruce would sneak some extra cash into them and Selina would slip in things that could be useful on the streets that he hadn’t considered while Alfred had checked them every so often to refresh the food and make sure he wasn’t filling them with junk food.

Once he’d gotten more comfortable, he’d started giving them up. By the time Bruce had disappeared, all the bags Jason had hidden had been unpacked. He never let go of his need to be prepared, though. So in place of the bags, he had four briefcases. Bulletproof, fireproof, blast-proof, and with encrypted locks, they were filled with paperwork for Jason to use in case he ever needed to go on the run. Each had everything necessary for a fake identity, including corresponding bank account information. All were created outside the family’s influence just in case the reason he needed to lie low was mind control.

Dick had never seen what was inside the first two, didn’t even know where Jason had stashed them, but he knew the third had a file for Casey Jacob Dickinson. Only because the fourth held the file for Casey’s half-brother Ryan Emil Dickinson.

The latter is the one Dick took when he snuck into Jason’s room and pried up the loose floorboard hidden under the dresser in the closet. It was their special secret, something only they shared. Something Jason had trusted Dick and only Dick with.

“Thanks, Jay,” he said, replacing the floorboard. He pushed the dresser back into place then moved to leave, but paused when he spotted the brown jacket hanging by the door.

Dick had gotten it for Jason to match his own red Batkid hoodie. He’d accidentally gotten it in a larger size than Jason usually liked to wear, but that hadn’t stopped his brother from wearing it every time the two of them hung out with just each other.

Running his thumb over the red robin patch on the shoulder, Dick stared at the jacket for a moment before pulling it off the hanger.

They wouldn’t miss it. No one had been in the room in over a month.

Case in hand and jacket slung over his shoulder, he snuck back to his room. He opened the case and pulled out the file. He slipped the ID and debit card into his wallet before putting the file into the lockbox. He carefully folded the jacket and set it into the case along with the small photo album Selina had helped him put together. It held pictures of everyone in the family, including the photo Tim had given him of himself, his parents, Damian, Jon, Duke, Tim, Steph, Jason, Babs, and Cass from that night.

It was the only picture he had of his parents, thanks to the people who ran Gotham Juvenile Detention losing almost everything he’d taken with him from the circus. He had another copy on his nightstand back at the house he, Damian, and Jon shared -- had shared -- in Somerset. The family he’d lost side by side with the family he’d gained. It made him sad every time he saw it, but it was still his favorite.

Except now they were both families he’d lost.

At least if Bruce gets his way.

Dick slammed the case closed and stuck it into the duffle bag next to the lockbox. He locked the box then piled in the clothes he’d already gathered. He tossed his wallet into the bag then zipped it up and shoved it back under the bed.

One last thing to do.

He was halfway to the closest cave entrance when he bumped into Bruce and Selina.

“Hey there, songbird,” Selina greeted.

“Hey.”

“Dinner’s almost ready,” Bruce said and reached out to ruffle his hair.

Dick stepped away before he could, then walked past them. “Not hungry.”

“He heard the news, then?”

“Hm.”

“I’ll talk to him.”

“I will. I’m the one he’s mad at.”

Dick stomped into the library, ignoring his tail.

“Dick, let’s talk.”

“I don’t want to talk to you.”

“I know you’re upset, but -”

“Then leave me alone.”

“Please just let m-”

“I get it,” Dick snapped, spinning to face the man. “You got what you wanted. You didn’t want Damian to -” To foster him, to bring him into Bruce’s home, to try and make a place for him in the family. He’d heard enough snippets of the arguments Damian and Bruce had had when Bruce came back. He’d always thought Bruce thought Damian was the problem, that he didn’t trust Damian with Dick and planned to take Dick in himself. He’d also thought Bruce had finally accepted that Damian was keeping Dick. Had he been wrong on both counts?

Or had Dick’s actions ruined everything?

“Why couldn’t you just leave us alone?”

“Dick,” Bruce sighed. He knelt in front of Dick and set his hand on the boy’s shoulder. “I just want what’s best for you.”

“Anything to get what you want,” Dick snorted and pushed the hand off so he could turn away before Bruce could see his tears.

“Dick, wait.”

A hand caught his wrist and Dick…

He was losing his family again. Jason was dead. Bruce had taken Robin. Damian was sending him back. His only hope was that the others would fight for him, but would they?

If they didn’t, he’d be alone.

Again.

And it would be his fault this time.

But it would also be because…

Dick spun around and hit Bruce right in the jaw.

Then he ran.

Tim and Jason had both long outgrown the small vent hidden above a tall bookshelf in the far corner of the library and Dick had never needed to use it, but it still swung easily on the hinges the second Batkid had installed after discovering the hidden nook.

He climbed through and let the vent swing silently shut behind him. He crawled down the shaft until he reached a similar vent. He dropped down into a thin, dusty hallway. Down the hall, around a corner, then down another hall was a small door halfway up the wall. A makeshift ladder led up to it and a hidden lever opened it, revealing Bruce’s study.

Dick dropped out of the hidden passage, letting the door swing shut behind him to meld unnoticeably with the rest of the wall. He twisted the hands of the grandfather clock on the opposite wall and disappeared down into the cave, heading for the vehicle bay.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dick left while the others were all patrolling and Alfred was taking a break. He used a bike that he’d removed the tracker from and kept all his devices off. He went to a hotel in the Bowery that he knew was shady enough to look the other way when a fourteen-year-old rented a room on his own, but not shady enough to take advantage of it.

He gave it a week, then two, before sneaking onto a roof in Coventry on a night he knew Oracle wouldn’t be working. He turned on the comm he’d brought and listened in. For the most part, everything was just the usual reporting in. However, things changed just before one.

“I’m moving in. Going dark,” Batman said.

“Got it, B-man,” Batgirl chirped. After a moment, in a more somber voice, she said, “So…”

Black Bat groaned and Orphan said, “No.”

“You don’t even know what I was going to ask!”

“We haven’t heard anything, and we’re not getting involved,” Black Bat said shortly.

“Not our place,” Orphan agreed.

“I know that! I was just wondering if Flamebird’s changed his mind,” Batgirl huffed.

“It’s for the best,” Orphan said after a moment.

“I get that,” Batgirl sighed. “I’m just going to miss the kid. I already miss him, and I know Oracle and Pup do too.”

“We all feel that way, but… I feel bad that he’s losing Robin, but he needs to get away from all this. After everything that’s happened… Flamebird’s right,” Black Bat said softly.

“Robin will be better off there, no matter how much we miss him,” Orphan insisted.

“Yeah, yeah. Have you guys gotten any leads on where he could -”

Dick didn’t hear the rest of Batgirl’s question as he yanked out the comm and smashed it on the ground.

He’d thought… He’d hoped…

But they agreed with Bruce. They agreed with sending him away. They weren’t going to talk Damian around.

Dick pressed his face into his knees and screamed.

He couldn’t stay in Gotham. The Bats would eventually find him, and now he knew that’d be a one-way ticket back to juvie.

He left the hotel in the morning.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Robin had been hesitant to stay with the others. There was no way the Bats hadn’t noticed his involvement in the invasion that had brought their team together. It was better for him to move on as soon as possible

He really hadn't wanted to, though.

They had been an amazing team and had quickly become friends. He also knew they would understand his past if he told them since Wonder Girl was an outcast among most Amazons as a result of her Brazilian heritage, Impulse was dealing with the fact her father was currently lost in the Speed Force, Virus was still trying to reconnect with his people now that he’s free from the Mawlix, and Nightstar had run away from home to get away from her absentee mother’s shadow.

That was the only reason he stayed as long as he had while they began to put together their base using the remains of Virus’s ship.

He was working up to telling the team he had to leave when he stumbled upon Impulse and Wonder Girl talking in the common area.

“It’s a shame, really,” Impulse sighed, clutching a magazine.

“Boohoo,” Wonder Girl snorted, not looking up from her book.

“I’m serious.”

“He’s one boy, and not even a worthwhile one from what I’ve seen.”

“Speedy said White Arrow and Silver Canary have met him, though, and he’s super sweet.” The speedster shoved the magazine towards her face. “Plus, just look at him!”

Wonder Girl shoved it away, rolling her eyes.

“What’s going on?” Robin asked hesitantly.

“Impulse is crying because some famous pretty boy is going away to boarding school.”

The speedster shot her a look then turned sad eyes on Robin. “It’s Richard Grayson!”

Ice shot down Robin’s spine. “What?”

“Yeah, the Waynes are shipping him off to some school overseas,” she said, waving the magazine towards him and he took it. “The family wouldn’t say where since they wanted…”

Robin fell back on his training to keep his face blank and his hands steady as he scanned through the article.

They knew where he was, and they were covering it up. They had come up with a grand lie about him going to school in England to explain his absence.

They weren’t coming for him.

“Poor guy,” he said, closing the magazine and handing it back.

“See, Robin gets it!” he heard Impulse say as he turned and left.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Small Easter Eggs: The briefcase from Teen Titans episode "Revved Up" and Dick punching Bruce from The New Batman Adventures episode "Old Wounds".

#batfam #reverse robins #dick grayson #bruce wayne #damian wayne #batkid and robin

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dottie-wan-kenobi · 4 years

Link

A @batfam-christmas-stocking fic written for @renecdote!! happy holidays <3

----

Alternate universes suck so much. Tim has always known that, but he’s never really grasped it, not until he and Dick were forcibly thrown into one a week ago.

Gotham feels different, even though it doesn’t appear that way on the surface. The violence is more personal, less showy, and as far as they’ve seen, there are almost no super villains. Somehow, though, there’s more crime on the whole, every corner of every street host to pimps and drug dealers and traffickers.

Tim tries to fight it, tries to intervene, but Dick pulls him back. “We can’t risk it, you know that.”

He does. But that doesn’t make it easier. “They need our help,” Tim fires back, everything he’s ever been taught about bettering the world, the pressure of saving people, battering around in his mind.

“It’s not our world or our place,” Dick explains, and for all that he sounds apologetic, his eyes don’t stray away from the shadowy parts of the street where they can hear people being hurt.

Dick is a good actor, but Tim can read him like a book. He’s following the protocols put in place for dimensional travel, playing the I’m The Big Brother And I’m In Charge card, but he doesn’t like it anymore than Tim does.

The rules are what they are for a reason, and Tim knows that. Grudgingly, he lets Dick pull him away, go back to their own little shadowy corners. They sleep on cardboard they find in dumpsters, huddling up for warmth. In the mornings, they go to the local library, hoping to fill out some of their knowledge on this world, since no rescue or way out otherwise is forthcoming.

There, sitting at the outdated computers, they find out that Martha and Thomas Wayne are still dead. Bruce wasn’t 8 when it happened, though—he was 16. He got shot too, making it painful and difficult to walk or move in general. According to one interview from a few years before, he’s kept on bedrest a lot, and has been in and out of physical therapy ever since it happened, now fifteen years prior. When he’s not doing that, he’s campaigning for control of Wayne Enterprises and tweeting about coffee.

There’s no Batman. Not like how they know him, at least.

One day, Dick flirts with a cop and Tim pickpockets the man’s scanner, and they learn that whole case files, suspects and evidence all neatly put together, have been sent to the GCPD over the past six years. They never see anyone fly overhead, though. At first, they think it might be Babs, but when they try to look her up, Tim finds that she’s been locked up in Arkham for at least the last four years.

Neither one of them want to know why, so they just don’t look into it any further. “This isn’t our Babs,” Dick reminds himself, and Tim, too. But mostly himself. “She’s not .”

They share a look, and don’t have to say anything to know it’s time to compartmentalize. This Babs isn’t their Babs. This Bruce isn’t their Bruce. This world doesn’t have the Joker or Poison Ivy or any of them except Two Face and the Penguin. This isn’t their world .

“Come on,” Dick murmurs, sticking close to his side as they leave the library. As they head to their latest alley, they pass all kinds of drug deals and gang members beating the shit out of people. By the time they actually get to where they’ve been staying, they’re both so tense, one smartass comment from Tim is all it takes to snap them into an argument.

”I’m sorry,” Tim says after they’ve gone back and forth a few times, sounding hostile even to himself. “I’m so sorry I can’t see things the same way you do. I’m sorry I’m not perfect Dick Grayson , who always knows what to do without even having to think about it, who always does the right thing, who is totally fine letting all these people suffer, because it’s in the protocol!”

He doesn’t even believe his own words. Tim’s just upset, unable to handle living on the streets for a week in a universe where everything is unfamiliar and grim, lashing out against one of the only things he can control. Dick is all he has here—and spending that much time with someone, let alone one of his brothers, would be hard even in the best of circumstances.

Dick flinches, and Tim only has a second to feel bad before the flash of a reflection from a gun in the window above them catches his attention. He moves on instinct, stepping forward and trying to pull Dick down even as Dick tries to move towards the mouth of the alley, protective to a fault. The bullet hits Dick’s left shoulder with a sickening and familiar crack-thwack .

For a moment, everything is silent, slow motion. Dick sucks in a pained breath, stumbling back a few steps, and Tim hopes and prays the bullet hasn’t hit an artery.

And then Tim twists to face the mouth of the alley and books it towards him, jumping on the bastard and bringing him to the ground. He rips the gun away and lets all of his pent-up anger and stress out, punching and punching. It’s only Dick, gritting his teeth and clutching his shoulder, calling out his name that saves the guy’s teeth from actually being knocked out.

Panting and shaking with fury and adrenaline, Tim stands. “Are you okay?” He demands.

“Fine,” Dick replies. “We—we should go.”

“Yeah, okay.” But he bends down instead, patting the guy’s pockets until he finds what he’s looking for: a wallet. As he rifles through, searching for a driver’s license or state ID, he explains. “We need to know who he is. If he’s working for Harvey….”

They both shudder at the thought, but the truth is worse. The name is Italian, familiar to Tim from a bust a few years before. He’s one of Maroni’s men.

Another thing they learned during their hours of research at the library: seven years ago, Haly’s Circus came through town. Bruce Wayne didn’t attend, or more likely, couldn’t. Mary and John Grayson fell to their deaths, and once it became clear that little Dick Grayson, only eight years old, knew something about the murderers, he ran. He’s been missing ever since, and if he’s still alive, then the Maronis are probably still on the lookout for him. Tony Zucco, apparently, is still alive. Still working Gotham’s underbelly, terrorizing and murdering. The Dick Grayson native to this universe is a threat to them.

They probably heard me say Dick’s name , Tim realizes, tucking the wallet away in the man’s pockets. Which means he was shot because of me. Fuck.

----

Big brothers, Tim finds, are fucking heavy. Especially when they’ve been shot and are steadily losing blood. When they’re dead weight, fading in and out of consciousness. When they’re relying totally on Tim to drag the both of them to uncertain refuge in an unfamiliar city.

And Tim…he wants to be someone Dick can rely on. (Obviously, he already is, but his anxiety says maybe this is just who Dick is. Tim could be anyone and the situation would be the same. Still, it would be better for Dick if Tim was Damian, instead. Or Bruce. Or Donna. Or anyone but himself, really.) But more than anything, he wants someone who can help Dick, who can keep him alive. Living on the streets the way they are just doesn’t lend much in the way of medical supplies.

Tim drags Dick all the way to the clinic, based on a vague awareness that it exists here, too. When they get there, though, the building is obviously abandoned, Leslie nowhere to be found. Wherever she is, he doesn’t know, but he hopes she’s okay. He can’t think of a situation that would keep her from helping the people of Gotham. Still, he sets Dick up against the wall and breaks in, hoping for something useful, and finding nothing inside but rubble and evidence of homeless people using the space for shelter.

He goes back to Dick, feeling like the world is ending. They don’t have any first aid supplies, and even if they did, even if a first aid kit fell out of the sky right now and Tim could patch Dick up, it wouldn’t mean anything. This only happened because Tim wasn’t paying attention, wasn’t thinking to be careful. It could happen again. What does he do then?

What would Bruce do? Roy? Wally? Diana or Clark? Hell, Kon ? Any of them could help Dick so much more right now. More than Tim can or will ever be able to. And really, what good is Tim if he can’t even keep his brother alive?

Aware the thoughts aren’t helpful right now, he shelves them for later and looks back at Dick, cataloguing everything he sees like Bruce taught them to do. Dick’s still steadily bleeding out, and though that’s most concerning of all, Tim finds the only thing he can think about is how they don’t have clean clothes so Dick can walk around in something not soaked in blood.

With a strangled shout, Tim kicks the wall. It doesn’t affect him, much—thank god he’d been wearing steel-toed shoes when they were transported here—but the brief release feels good. Sort of. It’d be a lot better if he were still laying into the Maroni guy, if he’s honest.

“Tim,” Dick says, both reproachful and concerned.

“Shut up,” Tim replies, dragging his fingers through his hair. His mind is racing. He wants to go home so badly his chest aches with it.

Dick knows him well enough that he can sense what Tim is thinking. Slowly, he shakes his head. “No, Tim. No . We can’t.”

“Where else are we supposed to go?” Tim cries out. It’s a stupid idea, it’s against the protocol, and they’ve already talked about it anyway. They’d agreed it’s stupid and they can’t do it and moved on. But he can’t help feeling the impulse, especially now.

“Stephanie’s,” Dick shoots back immediately. But they both know it’s not possible—here, Steph is another face on the dozens of missing persons posters that litter the city. He realizes it a second too late, and stumbles over his next words. “Just, anywhere but there.”

Jason is dead, has been for years now. Damian doesn’t exist. Cass is in Star City with Dinah Lance. Luke and the other members of the Fox family have never lived in this Gotham. Duke’s parents are still alive—they recently moved to Blüdhaven, and took their young son with them. Harper and Cullen are nowhere to be found, but Tim tells himself that’s a good thing—it means they aren’t in the obituaries. Kate is overseas on a honeymoon with her wife. Half of the Titans and Justice League don’t seem to exist, and the ones that do wouldn’t step foot in this cesspit of crime and drugs.

‘Anywhere but there’ means nothing. Nowhere. There’s no place for them to go, no one who can or even would help.

The words, or maybe the thoughts that come with them, wear Dick out. He starts to fade again, eyes slipping closed, and that means Tim’s in charge.

And Tim? Tim wants to go home .

He grabs Dick, keeping him from sliding down the wall, throws his brother’s arm over his shoulder, and starts off towards the Manor with every ounce of determination he can muster.

----

Several hours later, when it’s dark and Dick is pale and mostly silent, barely keeping up, they make it home. Everything feels different: the security that allows them to get all the way up the drive (after only a little effort on Tim’s part), the trees oddly placed and the doors and shutters all painted a light blue instead of the rusty red he’s used to. It’s disorienting and upsetting. Home is supposed to be familiar and it’s not and he hates it.

Tim knocks on a side door that only family knows about, hoping against hope it won’t be Bruce that answers. He doubts it, but he’s positive he won’t be able to keep his composure in front of his dad. It’ll be a little easier with Alfred. Probably. In any case, Alfred is the better option of the two.

While they wait, Dick mumbles, “This is stupid.”

Tim presses his hand against the wound, trying not to be impatient. Trying not to feel sick with nerves. He doesn’t reply, knowing Dick isn’t really paying attention right now.

When the door finally opens, Tim could collapse with relief. Alfred stands there, one hand hiding his rifle out of their sight in an all-too-familiar pose, while the other holds onto the doorjamb. His hair is darker than Tim is used to, his face less wrinkled. He’s staring at them like they’re weird, strange boys, standing at what’s supposed to be a virtually unknown entrance to a private, secure home in the late hours of the night.

Blood covers Dick’s upper body and Tim’s hands, and they both look and smell rough. They don’t make a pretty picture, and Tim knows that, but there’s nothing he can do except get Alfred to let them in somehow. He’s been thinking about what he wants to say, what’ll appeal to Alfred’s compassion or curiosity or both. Please, help my brother before he loses too much blood. Please, don’t tell Bruce about this. Please, I’m so exhausted and I need a cup of your chamomile and a cookie and also maybe a hug or I’m going to explode.

What he says instead is, “ Alfred .” It’s a relieved sob, leaving him without permission, and Alfred’s shocked and confused reaction is much more noticeable than it should be. “I—we didn’t know where else to go. He’s hurt.”

There are more words on his tongue, an avalanche of them wanting to come out, but Alfred stops him there with a raised hand. He doesn’t put the rifle down, but he says, “Come in, then,” and opens the door wide enough for them.

Dick groans when Tim drags him up the steps. Blinking sluggishly at Alfred, he says, “Alf…?”

“Yeah, it’s Alfred. Come on, help out here a little bit. We’re just gonna sit down and hopefully get you patched up, alright, Dickie?”

“Hrn.”

Tim bites his lip at the Bruce noise, stupid tears stinging in his eyes.

He’s home. It’s unfamiliar. Dick is hurt. He’s in charge.

Now is so not the time to cry.

Alfred leads them to a nearby couch in a sitting room they’ve never used in all the years Tim’s known Bruce. Rifle still in hand, he seems much more unsure than their Alfred, who would’ve already had the situation on lock by now.

“We need a first aid kit, please,” Tim says. He glances at the weapon, and adds, “We won’t cause any trouble, I promise. I—I know this is probably super weird, but….”

But what? Tim can’t think of a way to end the sentence so he just doesn’t. Instead, he turns to Dick and starts pulling his brother’s shirt off, something they really should’ve done hours ago. While he uses the fabric to put pressure on the wound again, he hears Alfred moving around behind him.

If this Bruce is anything like theirs, a first aid kit shouldn’t be too far away. There’s one in every bathroom back home.

It’s not long before Alfred is back, shooing Tim away and setting a large first aid kit on the couch. His rifle is gone, but Tim knows it can’t be far. There’s no way this Alfred trusts them enough to not have it close at hand. “Do I dare ask what happened?”

God, it’s good to hear his voice. “My brother got shot,” Tim says, reverting to his natural instinct to reveal as little as possible. Normally Alfred is someone he can give a full mission report to, but Tim is just Tim right now, not Red Robin, and this is not his Alfred, so he’s going to keep his mouth shut up tight.

“Well, my word. You wouldn’t know it from looking at him.” And there’s that Alfred sass. It doesn’t make him laugh like it usually does—no, it just reminds him again that he isn’t actually home. “Care to explain more? Should I be concerned you were followed?”

Tim thinks on it for a minute, but really, there’s no way Maroni’s guy got up in time to tail them. The rest of the mob family have probably heard about them by now, but Tim isn’t too worried about it. He can’t find it within himself to be. All he can really think about is Dick, Alfred, Bruce. If coming here was a mistake after all. If they’ll ever make it home to see their Bruce and Alfred. Eventually, he says, “No. We weren’t followed.”

Dick groans as Alfred starts to prep the gunshot wound to get the bullet out. He sways a little, dizzy, and mumbles an apology when Alfred has to readjust him.

Alfred says, “Just hold as still as you can, and you’ll be alright.”

Hearing the tenderness in Alfred’s voice does something to Tim. This is Alfred , he thinks. He can help us with more than just this.

He blurts out, “It was one of Maroni’s men.”

“Sal Maroni?” Alfred sounds suspiciously uninterested, not even bothering to look away from his work. “The mob boss?”

“Yeah.”

“Hmm. Alright, young man, I’m going to get this bullet out now.”

“Tim,” Dick grits out, reaching out his hand. Tim takes it, sitting down on the other side of his brother. He forces himself to watch as Alfred goes through the familiar motions. Dick doesn’t actually squeeze his hand that much, too used to this kind of pain, but Tim thinks maybe they both feel better having the lifeline.

He stays there until Dick is stitched up and accepts a dose of Tylenol—no matter how much Alfred gives them concerned looks and insists on something stronger, a Bat doesn’t take hard drugs.

Not quite huffing in exasperation, Alfred acquiesces and leaves Dick alone, sitting back against the cushions. Then he turns to Tim. With his hands on his hips and his sleeves rolled up, he’s honestly kind of intimidating. “Now you, young man,” he says.

“Um. What? I’m fine. I didn’t get shot, I don’t need anything.”

Alfred raises an eyebrow. Tim can out-stubborn almost anybody, even his other family members, but Alfred Pennyworth is not one of them. Everyone bows down to him.

Tim sighs and scoots a few inches away from Dick, and when Alfred shoos him all the way into the other corner, he goes. Surprisingly, the older man sits next to Tim, between him and Dick, and instead of reaching for the kit, he just. Puts a hand on Tim’s shoulder. Which Tim finds extremely weird, considering how British and physically distant Alfred is. Oh sure, he hugs them all. He catches them when they fall, he reassures them with arm pats and shoulder squeezes. But it’s unlike him to just... sit here and rest his hand on Tim’s shoulder, looking him in the face with an expression Tim finds he can’t read.

Not being able to read people, especially someone he knows so well, freaks him out.

Tense, Tim says, “What?”

Alfred is quiet for a moment, then asks, “Where have you boys been staying?”

Oh. Yeah, okay. He’s suspicious of them. Tim can understand why. “We have a place.” It’s a disgusting alley behind a pizzeria they can’t afford to eat at, scraping by with the last of the money they had on them when they were sent here, but it’s not a lie.

Alfred backs off, picking his battles and probably recognizing this one for what it is: unwinnable. He’s more than perceptive enough to read between the lines anyway, add up all the clues—their clothes are dirty, their hair greasy, and Tim knows he’s looking pretty gaunt. And considering how jumpy Tim is acting, it’s likely Alfred thinks they’re homeless. Which they are.

“Are you injured anywhere?”

Tim holds out his hand, his knuckles split and raw from earlier, and ignores how badly he’s shaking. Alfred takes his hand, and grabs alcohol wipes from the kit. He dabs at the wounds, glancing at Tim’s face like he’s expecting a reaction. And yeah, it stings a little, but he’s had much worse. This is nothing.

“Hmm.” Alfred moves Tim’s hand around, looking for other wounds, finding a few little cuts. “So your brother’s name is Dickie?”

“Dick,” Tim corrects. Bruce and Jason are the only ones who call Dick that usually, and Jason almost always does it because it’s his ‘little brother duty’ or something. The only reason he said it earlier is because he hoped it would be comforting. “Short for—”

“Richard, I assume.”

“Yeah.” Tim falls silent, trying to keep his hand still. When a few moments of silence go by, he looks up at Alfred, finding him making an expectant face. “Oh! Yeah, sorry. I’m Tim.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Tim. You seem to already know my name.”

Yeah. Shit. Unable to think of a lie beyond ‘you look like my grandpa’, Tim laughs nervously. “Lucky guess?”

Dick snorts. “You jus’ look like our gran’pa, that’s all. His name’s Alfred. Yours too, huh?”

Alfred doesn’t look convinced, but he goes along with it anyway. “Yes, mine too.” What an odd coincidence , he doesn’t say, but Tim hears it anyway.

It doesn’t take long after that for Alfred to finish up Tim’s knuckles. He offers to put some band-aids on, but Tim shakes his head. “No, no, I’m fine. Thank you.”

Dick gives him a look, and despite the fact that he’s still acting loopy, there’s a strength to it. Tim can tell what he’s thinking—that if the cuts weren’t on the knuckles, a very awkward place to put bandages, Dick would be insisting on it. Well, whatever , he thinks, resisting the urge to stick out his tongue. You’re not in charge right now anyway.

Alfred stands and looks them over for a brief moment, hesitation obvious in the way he pauses, inhaling deeply. Then, with determination, he says, “I will prepare you something to eat. Do either of you have any allergies I should be aware of?”

“Sulfites,” Tim says at the same time Dick says, “Shellfish. And pet dander.”

“Dick, man, I’m pretty sure they don’t have pets. And even if they did, pets aren’t allowed in the kitchen under any circumstances.”

“Oh yeah,” Dick says with a faint chuckle. “Forgot.”

“Mister Tim,” Alfred cuts in before Tim can reply. It’s unspeakably weird to be called Mister Tim instead of Master Tim, even though Alfred called him that for years. “Will sandwiches suffice?”

The thought of eating Alfred’s food—and even more than that, something they haven’t fished out of a dumpster—is drool-worthy. Quickly, he agrees, “Yes, that’s perfect. Thank you.”

Alfred nods and leaves, probably thankful to get the heck away from them for a few minutes. Once he’s gone, the brothers fall quiet, both a blessing and a curse. Not having Alfred asking questions that Tim has to evade is great, but it does give him the opportunity to keep freaking out.

What do they do next? Alfred might not let them leave while Dick is healing, and that means the chances of running into Bruce raise astronomically. Tim knows that he won’t be able to handle that. Not at all.

“Stop it,” Dick whispers, loud in the overwhelming quiet. “I can see your forehead vein from here.”

“Shut up. I’m trying to think.”

“Don’t hurt yourself.”

Tim sighs, letting the banter drop for a moment. “Look, I’m sorry you got shot. I know it’s not my fault,” he says, speaking over Dick’s immediate protest. “I know that. But I’m still sorry.”

“…Thanks. I’m accepting your apology but not your responsibility.”

“Duh.” Tim fiddles with his hands, satisfied but also knowing, in his heart of hearts, that it is in fact his fault and Dick is totally wrong. “I’m not sorry I brought us here, though.”

“Duh,” Dick repeats, sounding more than a little peeved. Not that Tim can blame him, really. If Tim and Damian had agreed to something, and then Damian went back on it… that’d be really annoying.

Still, that little brother duty Jason talks about means he has to defend himself. “Dick, we were gonna end up coming here anyway, don’t you see that?” He shoots to his feet and drags his hands through his hair, pacing in front of the couch. Despite his earlier flip-flopping, he’s sure now. This was the right decision even if it does suck a lot. “Where else could we possibly go? We don’t belong here. The only way we can get home is by ask—”

Tim cuts off immediately when footsteps echo down the hall. They sound different from Alfred’s, a third tap that sounds a lot like a cane.

This Alfred doesn’t use a cane. The only person who could is—

Both Dick and Tim tense as the doorway is filled up by Bruce freaking Wayne.

“Um,” Tim says.

Bruce looks different. Not just in the sense that he is, in fact, using a cane, but just. Everything. He looks younger, a neat beard covering much of his face. There’s barely any salt in it at all. The scars that litter the skin of his face and arms, mostly bare considering he’s wearing only a t-shirt and pajama pants, aren’t there. Worst of all, there’s no recognition in his eyes.

His sons have become strangers. But no, this man is not their father. Tim has to shout it at himself. He’s not! Bruce Wayne would never look at them like this. Especially not Dick.

Dick makes a noise, a small and sad little whimper, and Tim thinks, shit. Shit shit shit. Unable to do anything to help, Tim shuffles closer to him, hoping it’s enough to comfort.

“Who are you?” Bruce asks, moving further into the room. He says it casually, like this is a totally normal situation, but there’s steel there, too. Of course there is. This is Bruce Wayne. He doesn’t mess around, especially when it comes to strangers invading his home. And as much as that feels like a knife to the chest, that’s what they are. Strangers . The word lingers in his mind, leaving a bad aftertaste.

Tim gets the distinct feeling that the cane, for all that it serves to help Bruce walk, is a weapon. One this Bruce will have no issue using against them. “Um. We—we’re homeless,” he blurts out, trying to push the thought away. “And my brother got shot, so we came here looking for help. We’ll be gone soon, I promise. Don’t worry about us, this is just a one time thing, and we won’t tell anyone else. I know this is a house and not a triage center.”

Bruce is already looking at him like he’s an intruder, but at that, the man’s eyebrows furrow in confusion. Oh, right. That’s something the other—the right —Bruce would say. Has said many times. Because it’s something their Alfred has always said, and apparently this Alfred too.

Scrambling, Tim keeps going, pasting a fake smile on his face. “Alfred knows we’re here. He’ll be right back. It’s okay, we’ll just wait right here and not steal anything, so you can go back to bed. Goodnight.”

“Tim,” Dick bites out, obviously trying to communicate that he thinks Tim is being a weirdo, and that he’s doing nothing but tipping Bruce off to the fact that something is wrong.

“I’m freaking out, okay?” Tim exclaims back, curling and relaxing his fingers in an effort to control himself. It’s impossible, though—this is their dad , for crying out loud. Their dad, who they haven’t seen in a long time, not since before they were attacked as civilians and flung through the wormhole that deposited them here. Their dad, who Tim really, seriously needs a hug from right now.

Bruce comes closer, leaning against one of the two unused chairs. Where Tim tenses further, unsure of what he’s about to do or say, Dick relaxes. He’s really out of it now, the blood loss and medicine finally catching up with him. He’s blinking heavily and listing to the side. “Hand me that, will you?” He asks Bruce, gesturing to a throw blanket resting on the top of the chair.

Suddenly feeling very protective of Dick, Tim says, “I can—”

“No,” Bruce interrupts, the corner of his mouth curling up like he thinks this is funny. “I’ve got it.”

He grabs the blanket and walks over to the couch. Tim stumbles back a few steps to give him room. For a second, it seems like none of them breathe—but then Bruce leans on his cane like a crutch, bends down, and lays the blanket over Dick.

Tim has seen Bruce tuck people in before, usually Damian. All those times, he either didn’t care much, or a swirl of jealousy had tightened in his stomach. He can remember wondering why Bruce didn’t tuck him in. Why his parents never did it, why Mrs. Mac and all the nannies hadn’t either.

This time, his eyes sting with tears. He forces them back, biting the inside of his cheek.

Dick snuggles into the cushions behind his back, pulling the blanket tighter around himself. “Thanks, dad,” he mumbles, slipping off into a nap.

Bruce and Tim both freeze.

“Um,” Tim says, because something has to be said, this needs to be nipped in the bud and stopped right now before Bruce can ask anything. But really, the chances of Bruce Wayne not asking questions? Less than zero. And Tim’s brain is screaming, because what the hell could he possibly say to explain that ?

Alfred enters the room again before anything can happen, carrying a tray holding a few sandwiches. He sets it down on a side table before looking up.

“Oh,” he stops short when he sees Bruce, hands hovering above the food. “Master Bruce, I thought you were downstairs.”

“I was just doing some reading,” he waves off, but he can’t quite manage to sound casual. “Now… did he just call me dad ?”

Oh fuck , Tim thinks. Awkwardly, he laughs, “No! What? No, that’s ridiculous.” Seeing that this tactic isn’t working—Bruce and Alfred both have legendary ‘bitch please’ looks that go beyond the confines of time and space, apparently—he shifts gears. “I mean, okay, yes he did. But—but it’s just because you look like our dad! A lot like him, actually. Haha.”

Bruce and Alfred stare at him, concern building as he keeps laughing, spurred on by a week of non-stop stress and the pressure of being in charge— maybe , he thinks, this was a bad idea all along and we shouldn’t have come here and Dick was totally right. It’s only when his laughter turns to hiccuping sobs that either of them move, Bruce managing to grab his bicep in time before Tim can sink to the floor like a puppet with its strings cut. Alfred hurries to his other side, fretting, “Come on, young sir, just sit down now.”

They lead him to one of the chairs, where he collapses, his head in his hands. Dick is better at this—at leading, at interacting, at not breaking apart. It should all be the opposite: Tim sleeping off a GSW while Dick lies through his teeth as he explains what’s going on. Not that Dick would’ve gotten them into this situation, anyway.

“I’m sorry,” he sniffles, refusing to look up. They’re both staring at him again, clearly unsure what to do with a strange, crying teenager.

After a moment, Alfred says, “You boys say I look like your grandfather, and now Master Bruce looks like your father. By chance, what is his name?”

“Bruce Wayne,” Tim replies to the floor. “But… not him. A different one.”

“A different Bruce Wayne?” The confusion and curiosity is clear as day in Bruce’s voice, and Tim can’t help but snort a little.

“Yeah. Um, this is going to sound really crazy, but my brother and I are from a different universe.” He peeks at their faces, not surprised at all by the blatant disbelief he sees. “I can prove it.”

Alfred and Bruce share a wide-eyed look.“How?”

“I know you’re the one who’s been sending the GCPD all those case files. And before you say you’re not, you just said you were doing some reading. Downstairs. In the cave below this property, right? Back home, it’s called the Batcave and you’re Batman.”

“Go on, Mister Tim,” Alfred says after a moment. “We believe you.”

Relief crashes down on him and more tears slip out against his will. “I need your help. We need your help. We’ve been here for a week, and—and—and we have no idea how to get home. None. There’s no one else we can turn to, ‘cause the people who would usually help us either can’t or wouldn’t, since they don’t know us here. And god, this world is nothing at all like ours…. I just want to go home. I don’t know what to do. Please,” he begs, desperate. “I need advice.”

Bruce hesitantly sets a hand on Tim’s back, rubbing up and down in a motion that is, wow, extremely soothing. “We’ll figure this out, Tim. I promise you, Alfred and I will help you boys any way we can.”

Before Tim can ask if it’s just because they’re his sons in some other universe, Alfred clears his throat. “It may take some time, mind you. But you and your brother will need to stay here anyway, seeing as that wound needs time to heal. I can’t, in good conscience, let that happen out on the streets.”

Tim wants to refuse. Wants to say thanks but no thanks, you can put us up in a motel or something until everything is worked out. Wants to cry and cry and wake up from this nightmare. Instead, mentally and physically exhausted, he just says, “Okay.”

Both men are concerned by the response, he can tell. Though he isn’t looking, he can practically hear the silent conversation they’re having over his head. Then Alfred stands. “I will make up two of the guest rooms, then, sirs. Mister Tim, could you help bring Mister Dick upstairs?”

“Just set up one, we can share,” Tim replies. It’s late and he doesn’t want Alfred to have to do anything more than he’s already done. Than he’s already doing.

“If you’re certain….”

“I am. Thank you.”

He’s not gone for long, and thank god, because Tim can hardly stand to be alone with Bruce without spilling even more. He’s already said so much tonight, he feels empty and hollowed out, kind of like a balloon that’s been blown up only for all the air to wheeze out of it, leaving it sad and stretched. Holy shit, that metaphor. He needs to go to bed, and he needs a mattress instead of another cardboard box laid over hard cobblestone and concrete.

Shaking his head to stop his thoughts, he moves over to Dick and wakes him, a hand on his uninjured shoulder. “Dick, wake up,” he says a few times until his brother is blinking heavily at him.

“Wha’?”

“We’re gonna go upstairs and sleep. Come on, I’ll help you.”

“Hrn,” he says again, and this time, Bruce hears it. Tim glances at him, almost surprised to see the emotions on Bruce’s face. Apparently that’s a Bruce noise in this universe too, and it only helps to cement Tim’s story.

Tim helps Dick stand up, swinging Dick’s good arm over his shoulders. Together, they slowly ascend the stairs, something Tim is more than familiar with considering how many times something like this has happened at home. At the top, they meet up with Alfred, who takes them to a guest room that is thankfully unused in their version of the Manor.

Alfred helps Dick get settled into the mattress, his shoes and belt shed. “I could get you both some pajamas,” Alfred says when he sees the way Tim flops down, both of them still in battered, dirty, expensive chinos.

“We’re okay,” Tim says, aware that the only pajamas in the house must belong to Bruce and Alfred, and that neither size would fit them. He’s not sure he could handle it right now even if they did. “Thank you though. For…for all of this. It means a lot.”

Alfred graces him with a gentle smile. “Of course, young sir. I would like to think that your Bruce will appreciate this.”

He leaves, and then it’s just Tim and Dick. They’ve shared a bed plenty of times before, on nights when there was no one else around and they didn’t want to be alone. Dick was the one who taught Tim one of the best parts about having siblings: cuddles. Dick is a cuddle monster, but maybe tonight Tim won’t wake up being held protectively to his brother’s chest.

Under the covers, Tim stares at the ceiling. His mind refuses to shut off even though they’re finally somewhere safe. Somewhere he can sleep and not worry about what might happen when he’s not paying attention.

He feels a little better, now that there are actual adults in charge, who are going to help. Who can keep Dick from getting hurt again, especially from Tim’s carelessness. But it makes him miss home, just reminds him how far away he and Dick are from their real family. He’s curious, on some level, about this Bruce Wayne. He trusts him to take care of them long enough for them to return home. How long that’s going to take is a question, though, one that he thinks can probably be answered by: a long time.

It’ll be good for Dick, at least. Give him time to heal.

God, Dick shouldn’t have been hurt in the first place. But of course he did, and of course it was because of some dumb argument, because of Tim—

“’M not perfect,” Dick whispers, making Tim, who was certain he was asleep, jump. When he turns to look, he finds Dick’s eyes are closed. Squeezed shut. “’M not . I don’t know what I’m doing, Tim. I didn’t wanna come here ‘cause of the rules, and ‘cause it’s hard… hard to see them. ‘M lucky I getta sleep through it, I guess.”

“Dick—”

“I woulda done the same thing, okay?” And now he opens his eyes, meeting Tim’s head on. “This was the right choice. Coming here. Alfred gives the best advice.”

“Yeah.” Tim’s throat feels thick, the word hard to get out.

Dick reaches out his good hand and rests it on Tim’s cheek. “Thank you for bringing me here. You saved me. Now go to sleep,” he says, and then teasingly smacks him. “I can hear you thinking all the way from here.”

“You’re like two feet away,” Tim points out, but he tries to listen anyway. He closes his eyes, thinking maybe he will be able to rest. Dick is the best at comforting people.

“Shhhh,” Dick says, grinning. “Doesn’t matter. Sleep.”

“Yes, mom.”

“ Shhh !”

Tim laughs, and for the first time in a while, it’s real. He feels safe and warm and not alone, and while he can’t exactly say he’s happy right now, he’s a lot closer than he was just a few hours before.

Tomorrow , he decides, settling down, I’m going to take a shower and eat a real meal. And then, then I can finally start figuring out how to get us home.

#bcs19 #tim drake #dick grayson #alfred pennyworth #bruce wayne #batfam #batfamily #batfam fic #fanfic #my writing #renecdote

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completelypeccable · 4 years

Text

Unfortunately, I thought of a real plot

Can I Have This Dance? (new title)

There’s drama in the Batfam, with a song about dancing somehow worked into each chapter. Something is wrong again, and the family is falling apart. Now, they have to put the pieces back together. But the thing about puzzles is you can only figure out the full picture by coming together.

Chp. 2 We don’t have to dance

The phone was ringing.

Tim was awake, of course. The pale yellow dawn had begun to creep into the apartment, the cozy glow illuminating last night’s exploits. Twin controllers on the floor. Styrofoam takeout boxes that should be in the trash, not on his already messy table. And, his favorite part, his brothers snuggled together on his couch.

He had been perfectly happy to take the chair.

Tim looked at the caller ID. Bruce. His fingers found the power button, sending it to voicemail.

It was the first call since he carried Damian hyperventilating out of the gala seven hours earlier.

If he cares so much about where Damian is, Tim thought bitterly, let him figure it out. Use those big boy detective skills.

Tim turned back to his laptop screen, where he had been editing his report on the recent Teen Titan mission. The past few weeks or so had been a blur. The team foiled a plot to blow up half of São Paulo, culminating in a chase by air which Tim, as a non-super, had probably no business participating in, but inserting himself where he had no business was pretty much his mode of operation. Then, with that finished and the criminals entering international custody, Tim had been planning on a night of video games and report writing when he got the call from Dick.

Tim glanced at the couch and realized he probably would never quite get used to this sight. He spent about an hour staring between the hours of 3 and 4 alone. Curse Dick and his bleeding heart, his was getting infected, too. It was just so cute.

Jason was lying on his back, one arm behind his head, the other hooked all the way around Damian’s little body. His eyebrows were knit together, so he looked concerned and vaguely grumpy- a sleep softened version of Red Hood’s ‘don’t even try it’ look. He was protecting precious cargo.

Damian had wiggled his face into the skin of Jason’s neck and chest, his mouth just open, face completely relaxed in the deep sleep of an exhausted child. An extended panic attack will do that to you, Tim thought. Jason’s hand rested on the skin of the pushed out belly peeking out of his t-shirt. The kid always seemed to gravitate towards skin-to-skin contact, as if he was finally going through the infant stages of emotional development. Which was entirely possible, considering they were the first people he was truly safe around. The thought twisted in Tim’s gut. Convincing Damian the league’s actions were wrong was about as difficult as convincing him they would never be like them: slow going but definitely rewarding. Tim could barely believe there was a time he would have punted the kid out an open window if given the chance. He felt a bit guilty, but he knew they had both changed since then.

Damian was completely pressed up against Jason, but his feet barely reached his mid-thigh. Even though Jason was a big guy, the size comparison was still nothing short of completely adorable, and Dick, Duke, and the girls had been sent multiple pictures already. The baby curls of his soft, short hair poofed up like they did every morning before he tried to gel them into spikes. One hand twisted into the front of Jason’s shirt.

The weighted Robin-themed blanket had fallen off the couch in the middle of the night, and Tim slipped it back up to his brothers’ shoulders gently on his way to the kitchen.

Coffee was the order of the morning. He’d make a pot: four cups for him, one for Jason. If he had to deal with Bruce, he wanted to do it with some semblance of control.

By the time he walked back into the room, Jason was awake, staring at the ceiling as he ran his hand up-down along Damian’s spine.

“Morning,” Tim whispered, sitting next to him in the chair.

“Nerd,” Jason scoffed, smirking.

He choked and spit out his coffee. “Dude!”

“What? You sound like an old man.”

“Why did I let you stay at my place, again?”

“It’s because you love me.”

“I’d love to hit you.”

Jason was entirely too satisfied. “Can’t hit me when I’m holding a baby.”

Tim scowled into his cup. He couldn’t argue, though. Last night, they realized they didn’t have any of Damian’s clothes at the apartment, so Jason gave him an old t-shirt and Tim got him a pair of boxers with ties around the waist. The t shirt alone went to his knees.

He was tiny.

The phone started buzzing again.

“Tell me it’s not-“

“I wish I could.” He declined the call.

Jason shifted up, swearing.

“Hey! Be-“

“He’s sound asleep,” he grumbled, arranging the kid so he was leaning against his chest, blanket curled around him. “Look at this sleepy burrito boy.”

They gazed softly as Damian sucked in a shaky breath, whined, and cuddled in further, gripping Jason’s shirt tighter.

The phone buzzed.

“Mother- Does he not get that we’re ignoring him?”

Tim hit decline call. “He will eventually.”

Damian’s feet twitched, and Jason held him just a bit tighter, one hand at the base of his neck, the other smoothing a circle into his back. His lips and brows ran in parallel lines across his worried face.

“I don’t think he’s going to wake up any time soon,” Tim said, noting the brood session.

Jason grumbled.

“I’m going to text the girls, tell them to postpone their plans.”

“Mm.”

“Let’s do the zoo trip tomorrow. It looks like Damian is wiped out.”

“Mm.”

“Take today to deal with Bruce.”

“Mm.”

“Give zombie boy here time to develop organized speech.”

“M- wait,” Jason broke out of his thousand yard stare. “What did you say you little crap stain?”

Tim cackled, but held the phone steady.

“Do not send that snap, Tim, I swear I’m gonna-“

“Can’t hit me when you’re holding the baby,” Tim sang, scooting backwards, already hitting the contacts for Steph and Cass.

Jason swore.

…

They laid around the apartment for a few more hours, Tim working on his laptop and Jason reading The Outsiders while Damian slept. Jason kept a shelf of old novels at Tim’s place; it wasn’t uncommon for one to spend the night at the other’s. They kept an eye on each other like that, knowing too much time alone tended to do more harm than good.

The silence itself wasn’t uncomfortable, but Tim could have used a distraction from his own thoughts.

This was a big deal. He and Jason were trying to downplay it, keep it together for the kid, but they knew.

They were essentially disowning their dad.

And it wasn’t like this was a sudden decision either, it had been something on the horizon for months, a serious topic of discussion among the older kids for three weeks now. These past few days may have forced their hand, but the hurt was still the same.

Bruce had never been the ideal parent. He was gruff, he usually didn’t have the words, and he literally had a t-shirt that said “Emotions are my enemy”. But he had loved them. At least, Tim hoped. He had made Bruce his life, let his business become his work, held his mission in his hands like a guiding light. He had been so lonely, left neglected in an old, empty house. Bruce got him out, introduced him to a world that never stopped expanding, and gave him access to the tools he needed to change it.

But lately, Bruce seemed… different. Tim thought when he brought him back, everything would be okay. Everything would be understandable and solid again. Tim had felt so sad and confused without his dad. His grief was overwhelming. But Bruce came back, and Tim was so glad, he was sure that would fix it.

Instead, he was even more confused. His dad was unrecognizable in and out of the cowl. Bruce yelled at him over everything, cut off communication and left. Batman… Batman hit him. Tim touched his jaw, trying to control his anxiety.

Dick had found something, videos deleted off the bat computer. He hadn’t recovered all of it, but what he found was evidence enough. Tim wasn’t the only one Batman was getting more violent with.

There were three videos. The Batman beating thugs within an inch of their life. Screaming at Robin. In one, right after throwing a man off the roof, Batman turned with his armed raised and Robin flinched so hard he fell over.

That was bad enough. But there was missing information, hours of footage gone. And that scared them even more. Tim couldn’t stop his mind from running through every single possibility. He could never shut it off.

A stomach growled, and Tim looked up to his brother trying to flip the page with his nose.

Finally, an external stimulus.

“If you’re hungry, Jason, I can get you something to eat.”

Jason scoffed, finding his nose a bit too large to be useful. “What do you have, pickles and mustard?”

“Ha, ha,” Tim closed his laptop. “You only get the mayonnaise now.”

“Good thing that wasn’t my stomach.”

Another gurgle, and Damian’s face scrunched up.

Tim paused on his way to the fridge and blinked for a minute, not sure if they should let him sleep or wake him up, but by the time he made a decision, the kid’s eyelashes fluttered apart on their own.

His green eyes crossed and uncrossed in narrow slits. When they focused, they found Jason’s chin, and he scrambled to sit up.

“Woah there, squirt,” Jason tugged him back down, going back to rubbing his back. Damian grumbled and frowned, but let his head fall back down.

“Just take a minute, remember where you are and all that fun stuff.”

Tim cleared some room to sit, moving aside paperwork on the table next to the couch.

Damian’s face twisted for a beat before he pushed himself up again with a huff. Tim had to hand it to him for not immediately falling down.

“Alright, Todd. I remember now. Unhand me and I’ll return to Father’s soon.”

“Ha! Nope.” Jason sat up and yanked him onto his lap.

Damian scowled and threw his head back dramatically.

“Do not suffer me this injustice, Todd.”

Tim smirked. Damian was very clearly not yet awake, what with the slightly unfocused eyes and leaning into Jason’s chest. “Suffer”, he said.

“Sorry, baby bat. You’re not going back to the manor.”

That seemed to wake him up more. He jerked around to look at Jason’s nose, then his eyes.

“What?”

“You’re not going back to the manor.”

“Oh,” he said, a blank look on his face. “I am staying here today?”

“Mm.”

“Zombie boy.”

“Shut UP, Tim!”

Tim laughed. Damian still hadn’t gotten off Jason’s lap, hadn’t leaned away from the hand on his back.

“Is Father away again?” He asked instead, clearly confused. Tim would bet his last jar of peanut butter that Damian was still fuzzy on why exactly he woke up on Jason in this apartment.

“Something like that.”

“Father has left me home many times, Todd. Pennyworth is usually around, unless he is with Father.”

Jason didn’t react, but looked at Tim over the kid’s head.

“What do you mean by that?”

Damian fiddled with the blanket, pinching it up and poking it back down.

“It’s just that, he is busy. He’s home when he can be.”

Tim didn’t like the sound of that. He didn’t like the sound of his voice, the hollow loneliness. He suddenly felt pissed.

“Damian,” Tim said evenly. “When was the last time you talked to Bruce.”

“Batman and I-“

Jason tapped his nose, and he crossed his eyes to follow it. “No, Damian. Just Bruce.”

Damian looked at one brother, then the other. They could see the way he was reaching back in his still foggy memory, trying to figure out the answer they wanted to hear.

“No bullshit, kid,” Jason warned.

Damian looked to the side, schooled his face into a blank expression, and looked Tim in the eyes.

“It has been a while. Father is often… upset with Robin.”

Jason rubbed his back again.

“Alright,” Tim said. He was going to kill Bruce. “You’re staying with me this week, anyways.”

“What?”

“You,” Tim shifted to poke Damian’s nose. His eyes crossed, and Jason grinned. “You are gonna stay with me.”

“For an entire week?”

“Yup.”

“And I am not going back to Father’s?”

“Nope.”

“I… do not have clothes.”

“I grabbed a bag when I visited yesterday.”

“You probably missed-“

“Alfred packed it.”

“Oh,” he blinked, glancing back and forth at them. “And Todd?”

“Does what he wants, thank you,” Jason tickled his side. Damian swatted at his face, falling off his lap. Tim caught him by the armpits and helped him back on the couch.

“Don’t make him hit his head. I really don’t want to make an ER visit outside the mask.”

Jason rolled his eyes, then turned, trapping Damian with his legs.

“Get off me, you massive troll!”

“Just when I thought you loved me.”

“Careful, Jason, he’s hangry, remember?”

“I am not!” Damian’s stomach protested the statement, and he looked down betrayed.

Laughing hard enough to rock forward, Tim hit his head on Jason’s knee.

“Now who needs an ER visit?”

“Ugh, you two are the worst.”

“We did not cause you to become an uncoordinated hyena.”

“Harsh words from a chipmunk.”

“Hey!”

“Children, please,” Jason smiled. “We have to feed the wildlife. It pisses off the government.”

Tim stared at Jason for a good long while.

“Okay, I’m not gonna… Who wants breakfast?”

Jason made to stand up, but fell back on Damian, who yelped before being squashed.

“Todd! What are you-“

“Damian,” he whined. “I am so hurt. You called this weirdo over here Timothy last night. Timothy!”

“What?!”

“And you only call me Todd.”

“Get off-“

“Not until you call me Jason!” He met Tim’s incredulous look and raised his eyebrows convincingly.

“Todd, I will stab your kidneys.”

“Will you call me Jason after?”

“Not likely.”

“Boo!”

Damian began to squirm, but Jason leaned more of his weight on him and he growled in frustration.

Tim sighed and dragged a hand down his face. “Jason, it’s too early for-“

“Shush.”

“No,” Damian grunted. “Listen to Timothy!”

Jason leaned his face directly into his field of vision. “Bruh.”

“No.”

“Jason”

“No.”

“Jay?”

“No.”

“Big Jay?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Come on, Dames,” he whined. “I wanna be your favorite.”

“That’s Richard,” he smirked.

Jason grinned at Tim, who started to back away waving his hands.

“Oh, no. I don’t want any part in this, whatever this is.”

The wicked look in Jason’s eye grew worse. He flipped off the kid, just to jab his fingers into his armpit.

Damian immediately began to thrash.

“No!” He kicked the man’s stomach. “Stop!”

“Call me Jason!”

“No,” he choked, “never!”

“I can do this all day, kid!”

Damian fell off the couch, and Jason trapped him between his knees on the floor. He would have hit him again if his arms weren’t trying to protect himself from the attack.

“You have,” he gasped, “no-“ a squeal. “Mercy!”

Jason laughed then. “All you gotta do is say my name!”

“Todd!”

“Nope,” Jason moved on to his belly.

“No!” He giggled, “Stop, I!”

Jason made a goofy face and tickled harder.

“Jason!” He gasped, belly laughing.“ Jason, I yield!”

Jason opened his legs, and he shot out, scrambling onto the arm of the couch.

Jason whooped and held up his arms in victory.

Damian glared at Tim.

“Traitor,” he grumbled.

Tim laughed and held up three spoons and a jar of peanut butter.

“If you losers are done, I have peanut butter and pretzels for breakfast.”

“It’s nearly noon.”

“And we are breaking the fast. Ergo breakfast.”

“Fine,” Damian flopped onto the cushions, hiding his smile. “I will extract my vengeance at a later time for this injustice.”

“Oh, Timmy, the chipmunk just chirped at me!”

“Aw, Jay Jay, he’s so cute!”

“I can kill you eight different ways with that spoon.”

“Do you want us to feed you? With the choo choo train?”

Jason caught the pillow before it hit his face.

“I can and will use lethal force, Todd!”

“Jason.”

“Jason Todd.”

“Baby steps,” he chuckled.

Tim smiled as he scooped his own portion of peanut butter. The sirens in his head were easier to ignore. He watched Jason wiggle his fingers menacingly, then take a pillow to the face

He plopped the bag of pretzels on the table, inserting himself between the two. “Eat your shut up peanut butter.”

Jason stuck out his tongue, but grabbed a spoon.

“And after this, we’re cleaning my apartment.”

Jason looked horrified.

Tim felt no remorse. “If you guys are going to be staying here, we need to clean it. I’ve barely been here the last two months, and I do not trust my own cleanliness.”

Damian raised his eyebrow, “If the pizza under your bed has gained sentience again, I am not touching it.”

“Eat,” Tim glared, “your shut up pretzels, veggie boy.”

“Gladly.”

…

Damian stood and joined his hands together behind his back in a fair imitation of Alfred, if Alfred wore a Gotham Knight’s muumuu.

“I shall put on music, so that the arduous task of tidying this hovel is mildly less gruesome.”

“If you think,” Jason closed one eye and pointed his spoon, “that I’m gonna let you put on a classical music playlist, you are crazier than a bag full of cats.”

“A bag of cats sounds quite enjoyable, actually.”

“Metaphor, Dames.”

“I am aware.”

“And it means?”

“… I am very crazy?”

Jason held up his hand, and Damian returned the high five.

“Alright, ladies. Cleaning time.” Tim stood and took the spoons on his way to the kitchen.

Jason made a show of selecting his playlist titled ‘I Wanna Commit A Crime’ (we’re vigilantes Tim, it’s in our job description). Apparently, emo rock music was the ideal cleaning soundtrack.

Tim laughed at Damian’s concerned frown over Jason’s head banging as he washed the dishes.

He was just finishing up when Jason came in, crossing his arms and leaning against the wall.

“If you have time to lean, you have time to clean,” he grinned.

He turned around, planning on flicking water at him, but stopped at the serious look on Jason’s face.

“What’s wrong?”

“Do you want a list?”

“Jason, don’t do this to me. I have anxiety.”

Jason shrugged, chewing on the inside of his lip.

“I just want to make sure you’re doing okay with all this.”

Tim really didn’t want to deal with this conversation yet. He didn’t want to deal with any conversation.

“I’m fine.”

Jason’s brows became a shelf again. He scuffed his foot.

“You keep doing the finger thing.”

“The finger thing.”

“You know,” Jason huffed. “The thing you do when you twitch your fingers and start tapping out random- I don’t know how to use words, okay? English wasn’t my first language, you butt. Just- You’re upset.”

Tim leaned against the sink. “I mean, I think we all are.”

An ambulance passed by the window, and they watched the lights pass by several floors below.

“I’m glad you came by,” Tim finally said. “You really helped Damian last night.”

Jason pushed off the wall and pulled him into a one armed hug. “I came for you both, you know.”

Tim closed his eyes, leaning his head against his brother’s shoulder. The buzz in his chest felt a little less overwhelming.

A car honked, and a thud came from the other room. Muffled complaining followed. Jason laughed, ruffling Tim’s hair as he made his way to the door.

No rest for the weary, Tim smiled and tied off the garbage. It was starting to really smell.

“Be right back!” He yelled as he stepped out the door, locking it behind him.

He did feel better, knowing that Jason was there. Once Dick came, they could really talk everything over, and Tim would relax then. But he was content at the moment. He would just ignore it for now. He was content. It was fine. It was-

He sent the bag down the chute.

Actually, this whole situation was garbage.

Who did Bruce think he was? When did he ever become the type to hit his own kids? It was wrong, it was so wrong. Red Robin wanted to punch him in the face, especially when he heard him over the comms from countries away scolding Damian for things he told him to do.

And he didn’t care what was going to happen. He didn’t care if he got screamed at, or fired, or- or- he didn’t know! He didn’t care! Tim was not giving Damian back to anyone. Bruce didn’t deserve that kid. He was stubborn sometimes, and prickly, but he didn’t deserve to be treated like that. He had been through more than any of them knew, and he needed someone that loved him unconditionally. Bruce wasn’t that. Bruce was acting like a huge jerk-

He slammed open the door to his floor to be confronted with a man’s back, hand raised to knock.

Speak of the damned devil.

“What do you want,” Tim spat.

Calm down.

He clenched his jaw, because as much as he wanted to fly off the handle, that would probably make things worse.

Bruce turned around slowly. He looked him up and down before putting his hands in his pockets. His smile was easy and so Brucie stupid.

Tim wanted to hit him back.

“You took Damian home last night.”

“Yep.”

“I came to take him home.”

“Yeah,” Tim glared. “No.”

Bruce quirked one brow. He let the silence hang for a beat.

His thumb tapped frantically against his fist. If he doesn’t leave, I am going to do something I’m gonna regret.

“You’re angry.”

“Great job, detective.”

“That’s… fair.”

Bruce shrugged, still smug and unaffected. Tim just glared. He didn’t want to do this.

“I’m-“

“You should go, Bruce.”

Surprise flashed briefly through his eyes before it was replaced by annoyance.

“Look, Tim, you know how Damian gets-“

“Kay.”

“I’m just here to-”

“Nope.”

An exhale.

“I’m just here to take him back home and talk to him.”

“Oh,” the cold in his tone hurt him as he spoke, but it was too late to stop. “Now you’re going to talk to your own kid?”

Bruce stared. Tim stepped forward, the picture of casual.

“Not last night. Not last week apparently. Maybe all month. You’ve been too busy to deal with your own kid, but you’re ready now.”

“Tim, I-“

“No, just shut up, actually. How long did it take you to realize he wasn’t even in the same building as you anymore? Did you even care?”

“Of course I-“

“Shut- Ugh! I’m not doing this for you, B. This wasn’t a babysitting job. I don’t care what you think. You’re not taking Damian back. Me and Dick and the rest of them talked it over. You don’t deserve that kid.”

The flip switched, and Bruce was angry. His shirt pulled tight across his shoulders.

Tim widened his stance.

“And you do, of course.”

“I care about him more than you do.”

“I do care!”

“Could have fooled me!”

Bruce was tense from his shoulder to his fist. Tim belatedly notice he had gotten in his face.

“You don’t-“

Tim threw up his hands and walked past. “Have to talk to you.”

“What? Listen-“

“I don’t have to talk to you. I’m keeping the kid, so-“

Bruce grabbed his shoulder hard, “Actually, Timothy, I have custody, so-“

Huh. Tim turned and smiled, cold and clinical. Just like Janet, they liked to say. Bruce looked unnerved for one satisfying moment and dropped his hand.

Tim stepped close, his nose inches from Bruce’s chin, devastatingly sharp.

“But you don’t, actually.”

“What the hell are you-”

“You supposedly died, remember?” Tim rolled his eyes. “Everyone thought so. Did you think we could just leave Damian in the custody of a dead man?”

“But I-“

“Came back, obviously. But we didn’t change the paperwork. Just in case.”

Bruce looked wonderfully, furiously constipated.

Tim turned his back on him and slowly pulled his keys from his pocket. “So, no, I don’t have to do this with you. You’ve changed, Bruce. And who you are now, you don’t belong raising a kid as emotionally fragile as Damian. I don’t have to pretend to be okay with it, and I don’t even have to like you. Because you have no right to be here.”

“I am his father, Tim.”

“And sometimes fathers are neglectful and abusive.”

The space behind him stayed silent. Bruce didn’t even move. Tim flicked through the key ring.

“And as far as the state and the press is concerned, Damian is adopted. Showed up at age 10, clearly not white. You had adoption papers filed, Bruce.”

“Tim, you can’t be-“

“I am, and you should go.”

“Tim-“

“It’s been so nice to see you Bruce. Let’s not talk again soon.”

Bruce stood a moment longer before turning sharply and storming down the hall. The doors slammed shut, but Tim stood there gripping the keys and shaking. He wanted to scream.

He breathed in deeply through his nose, feeling the cool air travel into his nostrils, down his throat, past his vocal cords, trachea, bronchi, bronchioles, and down to his alveoli. Left lung, right lung, into the blood stream the oxygen diffuses. He thought of Jason tickling Damian, and the kid calling him Timothy as he held him against his chest. He breathed out the waste.

He looked down at his shaking hands, where his grip on the keys drew blood, and wiped them on his pants before turning the lock and opening the door to-

“Timothy!” Damian ran forward, “Timothy you love this song!”

Tim really looked at him, the way his hair stuck up in three different places, the dust streak on his cheek. His eyes danced just like they always did when he was trying so hard to make one of them happy. His hands were out to the side, and that grin. He really was Timothy now. Huh.

He was worth it. This kid was worth it.

Jason danced out of the bathroom just as the chorus hit, singing loudly and mildly off key.

We don’t have to talk

We don’t have to dance

Damian grabbed his arm, dragging away from Jason.

We don’t have to smile

We don’t have to make friends

Jason chased them, sing-screaming along.

It’s so nice to meet you,

Let’s never meet again!

We don’t have to talk

We don’t have to dance!

We don’t have to dance

The song was at least an understandable statement, Tim thought. It was kind of a dance, or a stand off. He knew as soon as he took Dick’s side that he was cutting the last of the ties between him and the man who adopted him.

He was fatherless again.

He watched as Jason tried to get Damian to do the Macarena, only to get a towel to the butt.

He would make it through this.

Jason chased Damian around the kitchen, insisting he try the snorkel, the shopping cart, no the sprinkler!

Tim laughed, even knowing all that he did. That his nighttime gig would definitely change, that he would have to quit his day job.

It will be okay, he thought, when Damian rolled his eyes and tisked at Jason long enough for him to be swung over his shoulders as he jumped around the kitchen.

It might be better than okay, he thought as he opened up his laptop to hit send on one more application, which he had written as Damian slept.

Jason called for help, and Tim let the tension leave his body, exhaled it out in one breath, and joined them. He grabbed Damian from Jason’s arms and was spinning him around the living room by the next chorus.

#batfam #family drama #Damian Wayne #jason todd #Tim Drake #they're good boys #jason is into conspiracy theories #but like #only to mess with the others

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spviler · 4 years

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╰ ﾟ OLIVIA HOLT. CIS FEMALE. STEPHANIE BROWN, known as SPOILER to some, has been at nox for SIX MONTHS. SHE has come all the way from GOTHAM CITY and has worked with BATFAM/HERSELF. people in nox say the TWENTY-FOUR year old are SARCASTIC and IMPETUOUS but those who know them well, say they are also DETERMINATED and ENERGETIC. hopefully they find what they’re looking for.

ok first of all hi y’all i’m jules and i’m very excited to be here, i could talk about myself but let’s be honest i’m not the one you’re here for, so let me get started with this. basically based of new earth because i have my reasons fhllsg

QUICK STATS:

FULL NAME: stephanie brown

ALIAS: spoiler ( current ), robin/batgirl ( former )

AGE: twenty-four

GENDER/PRONOUNS: cis female/ she/her

SEXUALITY: chaotic bi

BIO:

stephanie is the daughter of the low class villain cluemaster aka arthur brown and crystal brown. all throughout her childhood her father has been in and out of jail and her mother struggled with a lot of problems including pills addiction. all that to say that she really did not have a good childhood.

once her father returned to their home claiming to be reformed she didn’t believe one second of it, taking upon herself to spoil his plans she made herself a suit and learned as much as she could about it, left some clues for batman and robin in hopes they could help her put her father away. and since then she started going by spoiler.

she got hooked and there wasn’t anyone that could get her to quit the vigilante gig and started bettering herself, annoying heroes as she went along to train her.

it was all fun and games until she got pregnant at fifteen and had to retire her cape for a short while, she had no doubt in her mind that she wanted to go through with it but she also knew she could never give the child a good life and didn’t want to put someone else through the type of childhood she had so she gave the baby up for adoption and not much linger after she was back in the vigilante game still as spoiler.

there was a moment when her father passed away that she was way more careless than usually because working through emotions in a healthy way? who is she. and went on a vigilante rampage. but she soon got her shit together.

the second there was robin job opening steph took it upon herself again to make her own robin suit and apply for that job. she got it and went with batman doing the things they did.

stephanie was not always taken seriously by people even after trying to prove herself countless times so this eventually got her in the position to try to prove she was capable of doing something by herself and got well she got herself killed.

but not really she just faked her death so the big meanies would live her alone ( because who even stays dead in comics? ) when she came back she went by spoiler once more and all was right.

eventually she took the mantle of batgirl after cass moved on from it. as she was fighting as batgirl she was making her way through college and having a part time job because she was paying her way through it because she is just that badass bitch.

with the mantle of batgirl she finally got the respect of some people that she was admired but well after a while she went back to spoiler

now steph is quite found of gotham and the suburbs she grew up on and never really thought about leaving ( besides that time she was “dead” ) but she was very intrigued by the notion of nox and how it would be a safehaven, she couldn’t pass up the opportunity to look for herself.

so six months ago she decoded to move there and see all the fuss that it was about.

anyway i’d ramble more but i probably shouldn’t, so i’ll leave at that if you’d like to plot hmu or just give this a like and i’ll come to you, either way id love to talk it out.

#noxhqs.intro #this is a big mess but pls love me

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fishfingersandjellybabies · 5 years

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Unwavering - unforgiven series

Characters: Dick Grayson, Bruce Wayne, Tim Drake, Damian Wayne, hints of others Summary: To do anything, you need to take that first step. A/N: THE END. The party was basically to celebrate Damian and Tim healing and showing off the fixes to the apartment, but also a bit of an olive branch. The party was supposed to be for the literal actually-adopted/-family Batfam, but Cass decided the invitation implied a plus one and brought Steph. Not everything is perfect, and their relationships will rebuild over time, but Tim and Damian were just so thrilled all grievances were aired and they didn’t have that stress of anger/being alone anymore. Aka they love parties. Alfred arrived early and helped Tim and Damian make the pizzas. Damian remains living with Tim for the foreseeable future. Supplemental listening is ‘Don’t Give Up On Us Now’ by MENEW. Thanks for reading this series! I love you :3

Unforgiven series.

Dick stared into the mirror, huffing out a sharp sigh as he straightened his jacket. Almost instantly, he heard a mocking snort behind him, and looked at the reflection over his own shoulder.

“It isn’t a date, you know.” Bruce hummed, leaned against the doorframe. He looked nice himself, similarly casual in jeans and a polo. “You don’t have to be so uptight.”

“It might as well be.” Dick mumbled. “And don’t lie, B. You’re nervous too.”

“Of course I am.” Bruce admitted freely, and that was almost surprising. “This is…important.”

“Understatement.” Dick huffed. He adjusted his jacket one more time, then turned to face Bruce. “You ready to go?”

Bruce nodded. “Waiting for you, son.”

There was still the doorman at the building, but the security had grown two-fold since he was last here. Not surprising, after the recent (seemingly) random attack by Scarecrow on a few of the tenants.

It took just as long to get through the lobby as that first visit here. Checking of names and IDs at the front desk, a metal detector that was new – the whole shebang. There was even now men standing guard outside the elevators, who watched them intensely as they waited for the lift.

“…I didn’t want them to come back here.” Bruce hummed thoughtfully as the doors opened and they stepped inside. “Not so soon, anyway.”

“Alfred gave them the all clear.” Dick offered, though he agreed with Bruce.

“I told him not to.” Bruce pouted, looking at the various buttons for the different floors. He stabbed the one he wanted. “He knows they would have been safer at the manor.”

“Sure, just as he knows Tim gets flighty after a while, especially if he’s uncomfortable, or doesn’t want to be there in the first place.” Dick reminded. He paused then, glanced up at the screen near the ceiling, dinging with every floor they passed. “...We haven’t earned forgiveness yet, Bruce. You know that.”

“And he only wants what’s best for Damian, I know.” Bruce drawled. “I just…I’m impatient.”

“You miss them.” Dick corrected, putting a hand on Bruce’s shoulder. “I know.” A sad smile. “I do too.”

Bruce peeked at him.

“But tonight is one step towards that forgiveness you and I don’t deserve.” Dick nodded as the elevator slowed to a stop, and the doors slowly rolled open. “I hope, anyway.”

The hallways was the same. Soft lit and lovely. Quiet, with an almost soothing wavy pattern of gold and black running along the carpet. Dark brown doors lined the hallways, their golden number glittering, almost judgmental, as they watched Dick and Bruce start down the corridor.

Dick’s heart was thumping, and he couldn’t help but nervously tap his finger against the inner lining of his jacket pocket as they moved. Bruce was stoic beside him, face stone, eyes blank – his own way of dealing with his emotions and fears.

Time seemed to slow, the closer they got to that turn, and Dick hated it. Just wanted to get this over with, wanted this agonizing feeling of anticipation to disappear.

He held his breath as they finally reached that corner, and turned to the right, to the door in the little hallway all its own. Held it as Bruce inhaled himself, and knocked on the door.

Knock-knock-knock.

There was noise behind the door. Voices, maybe, or music. Too low to make out, and he was starting to get distracted by his quickening heartbeat, and his lungs begging for more air.

If they took any longer to open the door, they might open it to him passed out on the floor. Wouldn’t that be embarrassing. But he couldn’t take that breath, not just yet.

A moment later, there was the click of a lock, and the heavy door was pulled back. Sound exploded into the hall – both music and voices, with laughter mixed between.

But Dick didn’t quite hear it, too focused on the little boy who’d opened the door. Damian’s injuries from Crane were just shadows now for the most part, with the more serious ones hidden by his clothes. Though Dick could see the edge of the bandage still along his arm poking out of Damian’s sweatshirt sleeve, and his stomach sank.

But he couldn’t dwell on that, couldn’t dwell on the injuries and the attack and the past, not when Damian grinned excitedly up at them.

“Father.” Damian hummed, barely containing his giddiness. “Grayson.”

“…Son.” Bruce said, and Dick felt himself exhaling finally. “Good to see you.”

“And you.” Damian nodded. And it was amazing, that grin was almost bursting off his face. He glanced to the side, back into the apartment. “The drive over was well, I assume?”

Bruce smirked, let out a little snort. “Best drive I’ve ever had.”

Damian opened his mouth to say something, but was instantly cut off by Tim appearing at his side.

Tim looked between them, and to the surprise of all, gave his own bright smile.

“You’re late.” He scolded, but it was playful. “Jason was about to call the cops to report you missing.”

Bruce chuckled. “You could have started eating without us. We wouldn’t have minded.”

“But Damian would have.” Tim rolled his eyes, and gave Dick a knowing glance.

“It’s rude to begin a party before all your guests arrive.” Damian huffed, crossing his arms. “And Pennyworth agreed.”

There was a polite cough from inside the apartment that confirmed it.

“Thanks.” Dick smiled at Tim. Tim nodded, and shifted, tugging Damian back into the apartment and gesturing for Bruce and Dick to come in too. Bruce glanced to Dick, and Dick moved for him to go first. After another moment’s hesitation, Bruce did just that, all but trotting after Damian like a lost puppy.

As Bruce passed, Tim looked back to Dick expectantly.

And Dick found himself biting his lip. “Can I, uh…” Squeezed his fists in his pockets, laughed at himself for how ridiculous he was being. Tim waited patiently, hand on the door, ready to close it. “Can I give you a hug?”

Tim blinked in surprise, glanced back into the apartment. Then laughed, and let go of the door to open his arms.

Now there was no hesitation, no second thoughts. Dick stepped forward and enveloped his little brother in his arms.

And Tim didn’t hesitate either, returning the gesture instantly. Groaned a little, playfully, as Dick gave him a squeeze.

“Still have the injuries.” He grunted around another laugh.

“Sorry.” Dick mumbled into his shoulder, though didn’t lessen his grip any. “…Thanks for inviting me. Us.”

To Dick’s surprise, Tim quietly replied: “I’m glad you came.”

And all the nerves disappeared with those words. He held Tim for a moment more before leaning back to hold Tim’s face in his hands and kiss his forehead.

“Why do I feel like I’m twelve years old again, all of the sudden?” Tim mumbled. When Dick pulled back, he saw Tim’s face was red.

“Because to me you always will be, little brother.” Dick laughed, reaching up to ruffle Tim’s hair. Tim tried to push him off, but chuckled all the same.

And Dick didn’t miss the fact that Tim accepted the moniker. Didn’t frown or react in a way that said he didn’t want to be called Dick’s little brother. Just kept that easy smile. And, maybe it was Dick’s own hopes and imagination, but…Tim’s shoulders seem to relax a little as he said it. His own stress and tension dissipating as Dick still referred to him as that. Still thought of him as that.

Brothers.

“Will you two hurry up?!” Jason shouted from the kitchen. They looked over to find him with his arms crossed, a beer bottle already in one hand. Cassandra and Stephanie sat at the kitchen’s island, Alfred behind them. But what caught Dick’s eye was Damian, leaning happily into Bruce’s side, Bruce’s arm gently around his shoulders. “Some of us are starving.”

“Told you Jason was getting impatient.” Tim rolled his eyes, leading Dick towards the kitchen.

“You really could have eaten without us.” Dick tried, blowing Jason a kiss when the other flipped him the middle finger.

“It’s a…family party.” Tim reiterated, handing Dick a bottle of his own. “And…Damian’s right. You can’t start a family party with the whole family present.”

The implication of that statement wasn’t lost on Dick. Not on Bruce either, who tugged Damian closer into his side.

But if they were going to get any deeper into the idea, they were interrupted by Jason and Stephanie, both cheering loudly and grabbing for the first slices of pizza that were sitting on the counter.

Organized chaos ensued then, with talking and music all mixing together into a dull roar. Dick watched the scene gratefully, feeling his soul loosen and his heartbeat relax.

Ignored the tears in his eyes when Damian wandered from Bruce’s side to his.

And the party rolled on, everyone gouging on Alfred’s handmade pizza, soda and everything else unhealthy they could think of, just enjoying each other’s company and presence.

As they ate, Dick found himself watching Tim, as he showed Bruce the renovations and fortifications made on the loft since the attack. Watching his smile and happiness and comfort. Let his heart soar as Damian and Tim interacted, their bond seemingly impenetrable now, even with the always-changing emotional landscape around them.

“Hey…Tim?” Dick found himself asking, later in the evening. Probably at the most inopportune time, as Tim was chewing a bite of pizza.

Tim stopped midchew, looking over.

“This…is a good first step, right?”

And Dick didn’t need to elaborate what he meant. Didn’t have to explain that he meant for their relationship, their own bond. The one he thought, the last time he knocked on this door and was rejected, he could never rebuild, for the rest of time.

“A good start?”

Damian reappeared at his side, practically hugging him, asking him a question. A mindless one, something about Jason’s hair. But he didn’t answer it. Just wrapped his arm tightly around Damian’s shoulders, waiting for Tim to respond.

“Honestly?” Tim rumbled, food shoved into his cheek. Chewed for a second more, thinking about his words, then swallowed. Smacked his lips and gave a bright, happy, Tim smile. “This is the best first step we could have hoped for, Dick.”

#Tim Drake #Damian Wayne #dick grayson #bruce wayne #unforgiven series

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awhitehead17 · 4 years

Text

Trust Is Like A Piece Of Paper

Tim & Steph & Cass, Fluff, Angst, Arguments, Mending Friendships, Hugs.

Summary: Tim's recently been ignoring all of Steph calls, too bad Cass won't let him get away with it any longer.

A/N: This is done for Amuk on AO3 for the Robin Christmas Exchange 2019.

Also on AO3

Enjoy! :D

He was laughing so hard that he couldn’t breathe. Tears were rolling down his cheeks, his stomach was beginning to cramp and his cheeks were hurting from where he was smiling so much. He was beginning to wheeze just because he couldn’t take a big enough breath to get air back into his lungs.

Opposite him Cass seemed to be in a similar state, though not as bad as he was. After all it was her fault he was so breathless to begin with.

He and Cass were sat in his apartment after a rough patrol. They hadn’t meant to be together, just halfway through the night they bumped into one another and stayed together. Good thing too because they came across a gang war which got messy pretty quickly. Cass had come away perfectly fine, not even breathless, while Tim was sporting a few new bruises and a small stab wound in his upper arm. He may be slightly sleep deprived which may have affected his performance.

After that fun adventure the two of them called it a night and ended up going back to Tim’s apartment. Before he could even say anything Cass was there pushing him down on the couch and going to grab his first aid kit. Knowing it wasn’t worth the fight, Tim allowed his sister to sew him up without much complaint.

Once he was sewed they got cleaned up, ordered some food and chilled out in his living room. It was nice and Tim was thoroughly enjoying himself, it’s been a long time since he last saw Cass and had a good catch up with her and he certainly can’t remember the last time he had a night like this after patrol.

While he was in the middle of his laughing fit, his phone starts to ring. As he pats around for it as he tries to get himself together enough to answer it, he takes a few deep breaths, but couldn’t help the occasional giggle as he does so. By the time he grabs it he’s calmed himself down enough to be able to breathe normally and hopefully to be able to talk properly without sounding breathless.

When he sees the caller ID he immediately sobers up, suddenly unable to find it in himself to even smile at that moment. He stares at his phone as it continue to rings, unable to make himself answer it. It’s when it finally stops that he turns it off and looks at Cass who was watching him with a steady glance. He sends her a smile despite knowing that she’ll be able to read straight through him.

He puts the phone on the coffee table in front of them and shrugs noncommittedly. “It’s nothing,” he lies, “just an unknown number.”

His sister doesn’t look convinced. He sits back into the sofa, not as relaxed as before, and tries to start up the conversation again with her. She wasn’t having any of it however, she stares at him for a long moment before glancing at his phone and back at him again.

Tim pouts and waves his hand around uselessly, “It’s fine Cass, it’s nothing.”

She’s still not taking his bullshit. Wordlessly she leans forward and reaches for his phone, before he could think it through and almost in a panic, Tim also reaches forward in order to stop her. As he should have expected it doesn’t go according to plan, in one quick movement she had his wrist locked between her fingers and his phone in her other hand.

Tim blinks at her in astonishment, just trying to comprehend what had happened. He loves Cass, he really does, but sometimes she scares the living daylight out of him.

As she lets him go she looks almost apologetic, together they both lean back into the sofa and Tim watches her closely as she opens his phone up and starts going through it. Whatever emotion she was feeling she doesn’t show it, or at least Tim couldn’t read her. He wasn’t as good at reading body language as she was.

A moment later she was looking up at him over the phone, this time she was letting her emotions show on her face. Confusion, worry and questioning. “Why you ignoring her?”

Tim looks away, feeling both ashamed and embarrassed. There was a lot on conflicting feelings he had and he had no idea on how to describe them, especially since they’re mostly all based around her.

He shrugs, “I – Its nothing.”

“It’s not nothing.” His sister replies back simply. “Nothing doesn’t have you like this.” She places the phone back down on the coffee table.

He refuses to make eye contact with her and shakes his head. “It’s complicated Cass. I just can’t speak to her right now. Our relationship, well whatever of it is left, is all kinds of complicated. After what she’s done and what I’ve been through its just…” he trails off not knowing how to finish the sentence.

His relationship with Steph was currently very bumpy. Before everything that had happened, they were fine, great even, but now he doesn’t know what he feels for her. For the past couple of weeks she had been trying to contact him outside of the capes, but every time he either ignores her calls or brushes her off with a ‘Sorry, I can’t, I’m busy’. He feels slightly bad for it but he just doesn’t know if he can face her and talk about everything between them.

It wasn’t surprising that Cass knew though. His sister just knows everything, it was creepy as it was enduring. Then again Steph has probably been talking to her, so Cass was getting her side of the story. That thought makes him a little uneasy, who knows what she’s been saying to his sister about him.

His leg getting nudged gets his attention, he looks over at Cass to find her staring at him. He turns away, frowning at the floor, “Cass I don’t think I can. I just can’t see her right now. With everything’s that’s happened, we won’t be the same. I don’t know if we can rekindle some kind of friendship once again, I mean I know I’m in a better place than what I was but even so…”

“You don’t know unless you try. Speak to her.”

“Cass…”

She firmly nudges his leg this time, almost pushing him off the couch. “Do it.”

He raises an eyebrow, “What? Now?” At her firm nod he looks at her incredulously. “Cass I don’t think I can.”

Clearly his sister has had enough of him because she’s suddenly leaning over and grabbing his phone off the coffee table once again.

“Hey!”

He reaches over to try and snatch his device back but Cass keeps him away with a painful grasp on his wrist. He watches helplessly as she begins to call someone.

“It’s Cass, hello, fine, come over now to talk. I’ll keep him here. Yes. Please, bye.”

Cass looks completely unapologetic as she lets him go and hands his phone back to him. “She’s bringing pizza, will be 10 minutes.”

Tim sends her a pleading look, “Please Cass come on, don’t make me stay.”

“You need to talk.”

Tim sighs heavily and melts into the back of the couch, resigning his fate. This is something he hadn’t planned for, something he hadn’t wanted to face yet.

It’s 15 minutes of anxious waiting until there was a knock at the door. Cass is the one to get up and answer it and soon enough Steph’s bubbly voice could be heard through the halls.

“I got PIZZA.”

A ton of feelings hit Tim as she rounds the corner and enters the living room. Happiness, giddiness, anxiousness, dread, guilt. He had no idea what he should be feeling as she places down the boxes of pizza on the table and grins at him.

He gives a weak smile and an awkward little wave. “Hey Steph.”

“Hey Boy Wonder, how are things?”

“Alright…”

Things go quiet and very quickly it becomes awkward. Tim looks down at the boxes while Steph shuffles uncomfortably from where she’s standing. Thankfully that’s when Cass, the saviour that she is, steps in and says, “Pizza?”

Steph picks up again then. “Oh yeah! Sorry I’m a little late, the pizza guys were taking forever in making them. I got two figuring that should be enough to cover us.”

That’s when she opens up the boxes and moves around the table so she’s sat on the couch with Tim, thankfully on the opposite side, Cass comes along and settles between them. They each reach in and grab a slice and start munching.

“So what happened to you guys tonight? Tough patrol?”

“We handled it,” Cass states firmly, but then she glances at Tim with a small smirk, “Well I did.”

He jabs his sister in the ribs, “Rude. Nothing more than a gang war, some idiot got a lucky shot in.”

Steph hums in agreement, understanding what he meant. The three of them fall silent again as they continue to eat. They easily demolish the first pizza and get started on the next. By then Tim was more than ready to run away. The silence was heavy and tense, it was starting to get to him. He figures he should turn the TV on or even the radio just so there was some sort of background noise because the quietness between them was super unsettling.

It was when they were halfway through the second pizza that the silence was finally broken. Cass jumps up between them, steps around the coffee and glares at the two of them, putting her hands on her hips and everything.

“You two need to talk. Now. Settle things. This is more harm than good.”

With Cass glaring at them like that, it made Tim feel like he was in school once again and was being scolded at by the teacher. He glances over to the side to find Steph staring back at him and quickly averts his gaze.

“Right…” he says meekly.

There was too much and too little for them to talk about. Even so what was he supposed to start with? I’m sorry I’ve been ignoring you? I don’t know how I feel about you? What can we piece back together?

He’s saved though because it was Steph who talks first. “I know things are different, way different, to what they were before. But Tim, I’ve been trying to contact you, trying to fix what’s happened but you’re the one that’s been ignoring me, not the other way around.”

Tim swallows thickly, nosing slightly. “Yeah I know. Things are different and I – I have been ignoring you Steph.”

“Why?” She demands. She’s pissed off and hurt, Tim could hear it in her voice.

“Because I don’t know what I’m feeling Steph!” He says, almost shouting. He looks at her sharply. “I don’t know what to feel around you anymore. You betrayed me, you didn’t trust me. It was the wrong time, when everything was happening. I lost my dad, you faked your death and didn’t tell me, Bruce died, both Conner and Bart died, Dick took Robin away from me and then you guys all came back but then you betrayed me because Bruce told you so! I can’t forgive you for that Steph!”

“I was trying to protect you Tim!” She yells. Her anger is apparent in the way she jumps up to her feet and starts wildly gesturing. “Everything I did was to protect you! Bruce wanted to protect you!”

“What you did was wrong!” He shouts back also jumping to his feet. He was feeling hurt, angry and betrayed. “You betrayed my trust, went behind my back just so I could be a ‘better Robin’. You worked with the enemy, you faked your death and didn’t even tell me.”

“I did what I thought was right! I never wanted to hurt you Tim, I was only-”

“Well you did Steph! In the worst way possible.”

He was shaking now. His hands were trembling from where he was getting emotional with both frustration and hurt. He takes a few deep breaths in an attempt to control his breathing to try and calm himself down.

When it doesn’t really work, he’s way to wound up now for it too really work anyway, he shakes his head. “I can’t do this.” He mutters to no one. He couldn’t do it. Doesn’t want to do it. Wordlessly he turns away from Steph and starts making an exit, planning to leave and get some fresh air, just so he’s away from this situation, but a hand on his chest stops him from going.

He startles at the contact and looks wide eyed at Cass who was looking at him sympathetically. He had completely forgotten she was there.

His sister shakes her head, “Keep talking.” She demands gently.

“It’s not like you’ve been innocent this whole timer either Tim! Remember telling me to never get back in the costume?”

Steph says almost venomously behind him, another wave of anger washes through him but before he could retort she was speaking again, this time softer.

“But we’ve moved past that now, I want to make things right Tim! I’ve been trying to earn your trust back ever since, I thought we were getting better. What can I do to make this work? I know that you want it to work also, we can do this if you give it a chance to. Please.”

Most of her anger has left her voice now, she’s pleading him, begging him, but he still doesn’t know what to think or feel.

He turns away from Cass and glances at the blonde with an almost resigned sigh. “Steph, I love you, I do, but I don’t think I can trust you anymore, or at least to the extent I used to.”

She opens her mouth to speak up, he cuts her off before she could. “Trust is like a piece of paper Steph. Once it’s crumpled, or in this case ripped, you can try and flatten it out but it’ll never be perfect again. You lost my trust and I don’t know if I can ever trust you again.”

“I get that Tim. I do. Let me earn it back, however long it takes, I will try and get it back.”

Tim shakes his head disbelievingly, “Steph…”

“What about us being friends? Do you trust me enough that way. It doesn’t have to be capes Tim, our relationship doesn’t have to be that way. I want you in my life Tim, if this is the way we go about it then fine, I just want to be there for you, and you for me.”

Tim blinks at the floor trying to work out what’s going on. It hurts him to say that he doesn’t trust Steph, or if he will ever be able to again, but deep down he knows it’s true. He wants her in his life but just not the way they were before, would they be able to keep up some kind of relationship outside the caped community? That’s how they met after all.

Maybe it wasn’t a bad idea, if they both want it, both put in the effort, maybe they could get it to work after all. Maybe…. Well you never know until you try.

He turns to Steph, “Yeah okay… friends – just friends – outside of the caped community. We can give it a go I guess.”

Her face lightens up, looking hopeful and Tim suddenly feels nostalgic. “Really? You want to give it a go.”

He swallows thickly, “We’ll take it slow, things won’t go back to the way they were right away, probably won’t for a long time, but we’ll take it slow and see.”

Steph nods, “Yeah that’s right, exactly.” She steps forward then, towards in and holds up a hand. “Friends?”

He looks at her hand for a moment, hesitating. Was this a good idea? Should he do it? What if it all just blows up once again. He peers over his shoulder at Cass who was watching their interaction with an eagle eye, she catches his look and gives a firm nod. He turns back to Steph and grasps her hand.

“Friends.” He agrees.

She smiles at him and he couldn’t help but smile back. There’s still a part of him which thinks this is a terrible idea, after everything they’ve both been through they were not the same as they were at 14 and 15. On the other hand he’s getting more into the idea of giving it a go, considering how close they were once before they might make it work in the end.

Still holding onto his hand she slowly pulls him in and starts to wrap her arm around him, she does it so there’s plenty of time for him to pull away if he doesn’t want the hug. He surprises her though, he steps the rest of the way and wraps his own arms around her. They hug for a moment before Steph was pulling away but not letting go. She looks over his shoulder and makes a gesture with her hand, after a couple of seconds Tim feels a second body press up against his and he sees his sister fitting into the hug.

He smiles at her, and wraps one arm around her and the other over Steph and holds them both. Things weren’t good before but hopefully now they’ll get better.

#Tim Drake #Stephanie Brown #cassandra cain #arguments #angst #fluff #fanfiction #friendship #Hugs #robin christmas exchange

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lizartgurl · 5 years

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So I'm sure this has been asked but, What is Emma's relationship with her siblings/batfam? (Including Bruce)

Bless you Anon this gives me the excuse to post these aesthetics I made forever ago 😁

Richard is her little brother. The only blood family she has left. He hasn't always been there for her, but she's always been there for him and it feels wrong whenever he shuts her out or she doesn't know what's going on with his life. Still, sometimes all they need is a night flipping off the rooftops of Gotham and Bludhaven and it feels like they've never fallen out of touch. No matter how many terrible decisions he makes, she loves him with all of her heart.

Bette was the first friend she made after her parents died, so she really clings to her. She likes having friends she can trust with her secret ID. Bette is her worst impulses and the best of her control personified, she can tell Bette anything and Bette will encourage her to do things that are kind of stupid, but keep her from doing the truly stupid stuff. As far as Emma's considered, Bette is the greatest hero she knows.

Honestly, Babs was always more Rick's friend than hers. Emma was surprised to find out that Barbara had become Batgirl (because Bette was already Bat-Girl haha) but she definitely came to respect her the more that they worked together, especially when Babs became Oracle.

Emma's relationship with Jason more or less started to spite Rick. They'd had one of their arguments right on the heels of his last big fight with Bruce and Emma really tried to replace Rick with Jason when he appeared, but she quickly came to realize that she loved Jason not because he and Rick were so similar, but because they were so different. She took training him very seriously and, of course, blamed herself when he died. After he came back and everything calmed down, Emma wondered if they really had replaced Jason with Tim, or if they could have done better by him. She wonders if those are questions that still need answering at this point, or if she should be happy that everyone still wants to be a family again.

Emma was determined to keep Tim safe when Bruce agreed to start training him as Robin. She always let him know how proud she was of him and that he could talk to her if he needed help with anything, but admittedly, she thought he'd lost it a little when he said that Bruce was lost in time rather than dead. She has never forgiven herself for disbelieving him, and as such they have not been able to become as close as they were before Bruce's supposed death.

With Stephanie, Emma was always ready for more girl power. By this point, she was an experienced teacher, so she was able to be more precise in her teaching, which left time for the two of them to come up with new techniques and moves to use together with Steph's wit and Emma's powers. She enjoyed having Steph around to the extent that she'd adopt Steph herself if her mother wasn't still around. Steph is jealous of Emma's powers and how "hot" she looks, so Emma started buying them matching clothes and trying out makeup looks together. On quiet patrol nights, they can often be found in a milkshake shop with two cookies and cream with extra whipped cream.

Cass was always Barbara's daughter before she was Bruce's, but Emma was thrilled to have an actual sister. She knew a good bit of sign language from studying it in school, so she and Barbara would talk with Cass while the others were still learning. Instead of teaching this new Batgirl, Emma actually got a few pointers in stealth from Cass, as well as having Cass correct her hand to hand combat technique from time to time. Emma attends every one of Cass's dance recitals, and tries to encourage her other passions outside of crimefighting because she knows from her own lifetime that being a hero isn’t all you have to be, no matter what you’ve done in your life.

With Duke, it's a similar situation to Steph. But with Duke, Emma isn't sure what to define their relationship as because they know that his family is alive and out there, and Duke wants to find them more than anything. She'd hate to squeeze his family out of the picture or make Duke feel like he has to choose because she struggled with honoring her deceased family while also wanting to be part of her hero family. As the only two metas in a family of nonpowered vigilantes, they enjoy teasing the others together. "Oh you can't blind Riddler in the middle of the night?" "Too bad you can't taser Joker from a dragon's-eye view." She helps him train and control his light powers, and she won't deny she likes having another meta in the family. She loves Duke, but she's afraid to get too close to him because she knows they'll find Duke's parents one day, and she doesn't want Duke feel like he has to choose between his mom and dad, or her and Bruce.

Emma met Damian when he was three and was then sworn to secrecy. Talia didn't want Ra's to discover that she had the son of Batman, but she trusted Emma to help her hide him until he was older, when it was safer for him to come out into the open as the son of Batman. He was so quiet back then, with big, intelligent, brown eyes and a small smile that Emma was rewarded with if she was patient enough. After helping Talia escape the Shadows, Emma and the others didn't hear from Talia, or Ra's, for years until Talia brought Damian to the cave. Talia and Damian had been discovered and Ra's had taken him into custody of the Shadows, where he was trained to be an assassin. This twisted him beyond recognition from the sweet little baby Emma had met. She tried to love him like Talia needed her to do, but the only thing that would soften Damian was her cat, Justice. Dick also had the ability to be more patient than Emma, so Damian still prefers him over Emma, but if he just needs to sit without being bugged by Richard's endless questions, he'll hole himself up in Emma's room, where she'll put on any kind of music and Justice will hop up and lay on Damian's lap until he's okay again. Emma knows that his bratty stubbornness is an act hiding the sweet little boy she met all those years ago, but it still drives her insane.

Bruce, like with each of his kids, loves Emma in his own way. Unlike her relationships with everyone else, Emma isn't sure if Bruce really loves her. She knows that he hates to show emotion and that he puts on a mask to protect himself and those he cares about, but she doesn't feel like she's close with Bruce. She's looked up to him and a mentor, for guidance and protection since she lost her parents and she absolutely craves having a parental figure to do those things for her, but she can't help but feel like her neediness will drive him away, especially now that Bruce has so many other kids who need him, Emma supposes, more than she does. Bruce has yet to notice this, but he does love Emma. She is the oldest out of all the children he's mentored, she's been with him the longest, she has the most experience, and she's not afraid to call him out on his stupid, compassionless ideas, so he relies on her more as a partner to help him protect Gotham more than seeing her as a child who also needs his help and care.

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redrobin-detective · 7 years

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Don't know if this had been asked before but how would resolve/explored/develop the batfamily dynamics pre 52? I don't know if it was you or someone else, but it was brought up that the idea of Damian being more Dick's kid than Bruce's would be a neat idea to explore. Bruce would still bond w/Damian but he'd have to deal w/Damian seeing Dick as his real dad and Dick staying Batman for Damian's sake. Tim and Dick repairing their bond while the former and Damian would learn to accept each other.

Sorry, I know, I’ve held onto this for nearly a week but this is such a big ask I’ve been thinking about how to best describe and format it so I’ve been doing it bit by bit. Because I’ve given quite a bit of thought to how to integrate the ideas of pre-Flashpoint smoothly into N52, using the plot lines and developments from the later without sacrificing the former. I think it could have easily have been done and been more interesting because DC dropped off on some intense plotlines. *Also to save my fingers, Pre = Pre-Flashpoint/N52

Dick/Dami- I have done a few posts about how close they were pre and how Dami and Bruce really weren’t. Bruce was not the best father before he came back from the dead and had no interest in working with Damian in order to help the boy heal. In my fantasy, this would have played out. Damian would have refused to leave Dick’s side as his partner while now Bruce is hurt/confused on why his son now doesn’t want to be with him. I want Damian and Bruce to have a relationship but I want B to have to work for it. Nightwing and Robin shows Dick and Dami together with Batman and Red Robin has Tim and Bruce teamed but slightly at odds with each other, the once close relationship showing strain while Dick and Dami are going strong. Eventually Bruce earns Damian’s love and trust and begins patrolling with Bruce but he still remains immensely close to Dick and, no one says it aloud, but everyone considers him more Dick’s child than Bruce’s. By the time of Damian’s death, it should be Dick who is outraged and inconsolable with grief barely able to function while Bruce goes into his angry/panicked mode because he’d barely gotten any time with Dami and now he’s gone.

Tim- Just Tim in general would need a lot of work done and I’m not just saying that cause he’s my favorite. Red Robin left us with some pretty massive loose ends not to mention Timmy had be been bent and twisted by his experiences to the point that he was different and not always in good healthy ways. In Batman and Red Robin, we see the strain slowly start to show. B is still mad for Tim almost killing Boomerang at the same time he’s upset at how much Tim has grown-up and grown away. He’s also lowkey upset about Dami and, I don’t want to say he’s using Tim to fill in until Damian comes back but it’s implied. He also becomes increasingly concerned for Tim’s mental/physical health. Tim meanwhile is a slow, steady downward slope of depression and feelings of isolation and hurt/anger/insecurity over how the batfam treated him the past few years. First half would show the two fighting and generally slipping down, maybe Tim has a bad health scare with spleen and finally enough is enough and they focus on pulling Tim back. Also like to see a resolution to the Ra’s arc in which Ra’s comes in and tries to sway Tim over to his side which becomes more possible as Tim slips further away from the batfam. The whole fam/Titans get together and help get Red in a better place. (also wishful thinking, as all this occurs, Tim begins to realize his love for Conner and is dealing with that on top of everything. It spills out one night and is delighted/terrified to find his best friend has felt the same way for a long time. they agree to put any relationship on hold until Tim is in a better place but they sneak a few kisses and the support really helps Tim get back together)

Tim/Jason- Just as an aside I’d really like to see this (brotherly/friend) relationship develop. I like that N52 had these two be friends but it drove me nuts that after 6 years of Jay wanting nothing more than Tim’s death they’re besties? I’d like to think Jay would be one of the first to see how bad things have gotten for Tim because he’s been there, he know what it’s like to be the forgotten Robin. And Jay is still angry but his head is finally starting to clear from the Pit and he acknowledges that what happened with him and B wasn’t Tim’s fault. And as he watches Tim slowly spiral downwards with seemingly no help, Jay decides he won’t see another Robin die. Jason approaches Alfred, then B about Tim’s health and ways to help. It’s tense and awkward as they test the waters but they agree to, separately, help get Tim straight. It’s slow going but between Outlaw missions, Jay stops by Tim’s apartment and hangs out with him. They patrol when B is with Dami, they talk and properly get to know each other. They find they have a bit in common and actually like talking. Tim finally talks about some of the messed up things that happened and lets Jay know how bad things got and Jay finally talks about his traumas and comes to terms with them. As Tim is still angry at Dick/Bruce, Jason becomes a confidant in the batfam.

Jason- Actually RHATO Rebirth Jason is a pretty good idea of what I’m thinking of. We have a Jason who, after a few years finally is able to move past the Pit’s influence and think clearly for the first time in a while. It makes him realize that most of his actions were done out of anger so he re-evaluates. B sees this and takes the opportunity to reach out which Jason appreciates and returns by telling B about Tim. That’s where B and J start making things right, when they’re talking about how to best help Tim, they’re also covertly talking about how to deal with what happened. It gets out that Hood is a Bat and Jay is forced to ally himself properly with his family in order to avoid being torn apart by the criminal community. Jay will never be the golden son, he agrees that he won’t purposely kill but he toes the line far more than Bruce is comfortable with. The trust between them is razor thin but they’re trying. B hates it but he uses Jason as an agent who does the things B cannot/will not do. Jay spends only about half the time in Gotham, the other half with the Outlaws (NOT Kory/Roy, Jay needs his own team not hand-me-downs, Artemis/Bizarro?). He gets on better terms with Tim, but is still at odds with Dick even more so on Tim’s behalf for replacing the kid when he was down. Eventually learns to like Dami and becomes a proper big brother with him. I’d like a side arc seeing Jason going back to school? Going to GCU maybe with Steph under a false ID, that’d be nice.

Cass and the BOP- Having read Cass’s Batgirl run I think it’d be a natural progression that she’d fit in with the Birds. Cass loves her new family but she also needs space for herself to grow and she remembers Bruce was rather suffocating with her. She moves in fulltime with Barbara on the excuse she’s there to help/respond quickly but honestly she’s working on bettering her people skills and needs that constant human interaction. Babs teaches her to read when not on missions and the other Birds are very supportive of Cass. Cass also trains the other Birds in techniques and really hones the Team’s skills. They become just as formidable and respected as the Bats. They learn to coordinate better so they each can have more times off. The Birds would have their own section of Gotham as “theirs”, their own rogues gallery, get involved in the ladies’ personal lives. Barb is still struggling with her on again/off again relationship with Dick, now complicated by children in all but name, Damian and Cass (lol Bruce lost two children to other people). Cass is working on being a person and not a weapon but trying to keep up her impressive skills. Steph is a reserve member, available if needed but she’s really trying to ally herself with the Bats. She and Cass though retain a strong relationship, Steph because her relationship with Tim has soured and she needs someone and Cass because Steph was her first friend.

Stephanie- I’d basically like a continuation of her Batgirl run which was marvelous and go read it. Stephanie is still trying to prove herself to that Bats that she’s worthy of the cape and cowl and, for the most part, she’s earned it. Bruce now grants her the Batgirl title and keeps her on the roster and her belt equipped. But there’s always gonna be some tension between them and he’s undeniably harsher on her than the others. She patrols often with Dick and Damian who like/trust her more and, a lot of times, if Dick is working or whatever it will just be her and Damian. She relishes the big sister role and the feminine influence is good on Damian (though he’ll never admit to it). Continues her classes at GCU, nearly falls over when Jason sits next to her in her English Lit class. The big problem for her is keeping up with the other more confident/well-trained heroes and also repairing her relationship with Tim. She messed up, he took it badly, she moved up in batfam, he started spiraling out of control. He’s still angry about what went down but recently has been trying to repair the relationship. But too much has happened and they’ve both changed so much. Neither likes admitting how different from Robin and Spoiler they are. Her and Jay discuss how to handle Tim while studying poetry. As Tim’s health improves, he lets Steph in more and they start their friendship over. Also very close to the BOP/Cass and while she’ll hang out with them a lot out of costume, she’s determined to be a Bat. Maybe after she gains some confidence, she might switch over to the BOP for good.

#batman asks #batman headcanon #long post #this is huge but I would have DIED to have seen this in N52

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